


Decibels

by red_to_black



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 102,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_to_black/pseuds/red_to_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's pretty sure that at this rate, he's going to run out of music recommendations for the hot guy that keeps coming in on his shift. And seriously, how is it that he always turns up when no one else is in there?</p>
<p>(Liam is a very dense college student who has a lot of cute boys caring about him. He doesn't notice. Everyone around him does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One - A Due

**Author's Note:**

> I need an intervention. HAVE FUN WITH THE COLLEGE AU RECORD SHOP AU THING THAT THIS IS

**Chapter One - A Due**

Liam's been out of the closet for three weeks, two days, and some spare change when he lands a job working at a local music store.

Thing is, Liam _liked_ his closet. Really liked it. It smelled like denial and safety and acceptance, but the thing is, it also came with a lot of baggage and skeletons and, well, Liam figures nobody's really gonna know him at college - apart from Mason, who's been out as being gay for as long as anyone can remember - so what's the point in hiding there anymore?

So three days before he ships off to college he announces it to his parents - his mom makes him a fucking cake of all things - and then reluctantly lets Mason gleefully indoctrinate him. This involves going to a club and standing nervously in the corner while Mason gets wasted and makes out with three different people.

Still, it gives Liam enough experience in being hit on to at least have an idea of when it's happening - and it happens soon after he gets the gig at the music store.

Liam _loves_ music. So really, landing this job in awesome - it's a ten minute bus ride from the dorm room he shares with Mason, barely twenty from college, and it doesn't even have a uniform. Liam's happy there. 

He's worked there for about a week or so the first time he sees Brett.

He's standing up on a stepladder to reach the higher shelves, putting away some new Taylor Swift CD's - he hates her music but fuck him if he hasn't got stupid Bad Blood stuck on a continuous loop in his brain - when the bell to the shop rings.

"Hey," he calls. "Sorry, be there in a second." 

"Take your time, man." The voice is warm and low and friendly and Liam knows he's fucked before he even turns around.

And if he thought he was screwed before, he's doubly screwed now. Because the guy who comes in is as tall as Liam while Liam's on the stepladder, with dark hair somewhere between blonde and brown - Liam heard Hayden call it "bronde" the other day, not that he knows what the fuck that means, exactly - and large, icy blue eyes.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. 

"Hi," Liam stammers. He's just realised that he's wearing an old maroon t-shirt that's probably a little too big for him and black jeans and, wow, this guy is really well dressed. He's wearing a fucking button-down, for crying out loud. And his jeans actually fit him. And he looks like a Greek god.

"Hi," the guy says, seeming amused. "Hey, can you tell me where all the rock stuff is?"

"Yeah, sure." Liam tries to at least play it cool, because he doesn't want this guy, who is probably straight, to think that he's a freak. "Yeah, it's this way." He steps down from his stool, and suddenly, he's a full head shorter than his new customer.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. Just new around here, that's all."

"Don't worry," Liam says quickly. "And uh, I am as well."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. College."

"Me too, man. Just transferred over from UCB."

"UCB?" Liam asks. "Why the hell would you transfer here?" And by here, he's referring to his perfectly respectable college campus that has a reputation for being an intermediary between schools.

The guy laughs. "Closer to family," he says. 

"Fair enough." Liam points. "This is pretty much all the rock we have in. I think the manager's gonna expand soon, but right now there's not a lot to choose from."

"Anything you recommend?" the guy asks.

Liam blinks, opens his mouth, and then closes it. Hot guy wants his recommendation on Liam's favourite music and Liam's just a little in love with him already. He hasn't met anyone he's liked this much since Scott, and that was just because Scott was so fucking nice to him - and seemed to know Liam was gay before Liam did.

"Unless you don't listen to rock?" the guy asks sheepishly. "Sorry. I figured-"

"No, I do," Liam says. "I was just, um, thinking. The Dead Kennedys are pretty good, they're one of my favourites. And... I mean, Led Zeppelin. Obviously. Nirvana's kind of verging into your more alternative stuff, but they're still rock. Iron Maiden's not my thing but tons of people like them too."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about," the guy comments.

Liam tries not to blush; music is the only thing he feels really, really confident about. At least in this point in his life. "I listen to a lot of music. Oh, yeah, Pearl Jam. Definitely Pearl Jam."

The phone rings. "Sorry," Liam says. "Uh, yeah, let me know if you need anything else."

He's on the phone for less than thirty seconds with a customer demanding to know why their website isn't showing a particular album - Liam tries explaining that said album isn't released for another month yet but that seems to fall on flat ears. They hang up on him.

He sighs, puts the receiver down, and turns back to the counter. The tall guy is standing there, smiling.

Liam almost jumps, but he manages to stop himself. "Found what you were looking for?" he asks casually.

"Think so." Tall Guy shakes his head. "Man, that sounded brutal."

Liam shrugs as he starts ringing up the CDs. "Customer service." 

"Still brutal," Tall Guy says. "You ever yell back?"

"I'm not allowed to," Liam sighs. "Customer is always right and all that bullshit."

"Well, this customer is saying you should yell back."

Liam laughs a little; he thinks the guy might be teasing him, but that could also be wishful thinking. "Mhm. That'd be interesting. Get on the phone with a rude customer and say hey, you know what? This guy, uh-"

"Brett."

"Brett, he says I can yell back at you." 

Brett shrugs - it's nice to have a name to put to the face, now - and smiles. "Someone's gotta stick up for you, right?"

"Right." Liam looks down. "Uh - twenty three ninety."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They're both on sale."

"Sweet." Brett takes out his card, and Liam finishes off the transaction. 

"Have a good day," he says, somewhat awkwardly. He's seen Hayden say it pretty cheerfully - albeit through gritted teeth sometimes - but that level of perkiness just doesn't come naturally to him, and he's still struggling to actually say it to customers.

It's like Brett knows; his grin widens. "You too. Liam."

Liam opens his mouth, meaning to ask how Brett knew his name - then remembers he's wearing a nametag and closes it. Brett smirks. 

"See ya, Liam," he says, and then he's walking out. Liam watches him, feeling confused and slightly intimidated, before reaching for his phone and texting Mason.

**To** : Mason Hewitt, 2:24PM  
I'm fucked, Mase.

~*~

It's five twenty when Liam blows into their dorm room, out of the cold, and ditches his leather jacket over the back of Mason's chair before flopping dramatically onto his bed and yanking his pillow over his face.

"Wow," Mason says. "That bad, huh?"

Liam peers at him from under the pillow. "I'm so screwed," he moans.

"What's the problem? You saw someone hot. That's great! You know your type now!"

"Mase, I really appreciate you pretending that I have a type that goes any further than someone who's nice to me, but really. I'm screwed."

"So, how old was he? What'd he look like?" Mason looks unabashedly delighted at the conversation they're having.

"He's tall. Bronde."

"Bronde?"

"You know. Stupid name for that colour halfway between blonde and brown. Blue eyes. Uh, I think he might've been older than us, but it's hard to tell." He sits up, sighing. "Mase, he's probably straight, so it doesn't even matter."

"It does matter!" Mason says firmly. "Liam, you were too scared to approach anyone at Sinema-"

Liam splutters indignantly at that - he was just watching out for Mason, okay, he was not scared of going near anyone - but Mason cuts him off before he says anything.

"See if he comes back," Mason encourages. "Talk to him some more. You said he bought rock music, so at least you've got something in common." 

Liam looks at Mason miserably. Mason sighs and leans over, taking his shoulders.

"You are out of the closet, Liam. The world is your oyster."

Liam flops back on his bed. "The oyster isn't as dark as my closet was," he mutters, and Mason laughs.

~*~

He doesn't see Brett on his next two shifts, and for a while he thinks he won't again.

It's a Tuesday afternoon that Brett comes back - Tuesdays are quiet, mostly, because it's not the end of the week and their hours don't run as late. It's just past one and Liam's sitting behind the counter, playing absently on his guitar, when the bell rings.

He looks up - that's the first time he's heard the bell in almost an hour - and his heart shoots into his throat when he sees Brett strolling in.

Bret smiles. "Hey, Liam."

Liam's first thought is that Brett remembered his name, and then he remembers he's wearing his nametag. "Hey," he says nervously.

"Quiet?" Brett motions at his guitar.

"Usually is on Tuesdays." Liam stands up, putting his guitar back in its case. "Um, you need help with anything?" 

"You seem to know your stuff," Brett says. "I'm kind of looking for more in the same genre?"

"More, huh?" Liam walks out from behind the counter. "Yeah, okay. You liked the stuff I recommended before?"

"Yeah. Especially Pearl Jam."

"Figured. They're kind of easier to get into when you first start listening to rock." Liam stares at the shelf, biting his lip. "Uhh... okay, two seconds." He grabs the stepladder and climbs up it, reaching for Breaking Benjamin. "Try this," he says, handing down their Dear Agony album. "And... uh..." He reaches over, wobbling precariously. "This might be a bit of a stretch, but - this as well." He pulls out Pendulum's Immersion album as well.

"You look like you're gonna fall."

"I haven't yet," Liam pants, stepping down. "So there. You've got - Breaking Benjamin, which is more along the lines of, you know, hard rock and post-grunge, and some Pendulum, which is like this really weird mix between electronic and industrial rock." He shrugs. "You know. Variety is the spice of life."

Brett looks amused. "You study philosophy?"

"Not smart enough," Liam says. 

"Yeah? You sound pretty smart."

Liam blushes. "Only with music," he says. "Not anything else."

Brett shrugs. "You're at college. You must be good at something. What're you doing there?"

Liam's almost nervous to say. "I'm studying - um, criminology and forensics," he says.

Brett's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow. I never would've picked that."

Liam shrugs self-consciously; nearly everyone says that. In fact, his course is mostly dominated by girls. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing but would probably be more enjoyable if he was straight.

"You?" he asks.

"Pharmacology," Brett says.

"Huh. That's cool. All those drugs kill people and I get to figure out the how and why," Liam says, smiling.

Brett looks downright stunned for a moment, and that's when Liam remembers Mason telling him that black humour isn't exactly everyone's favourite brand, but then Brett laughs. "Wow," he says again. "That was, uh, kind of morbid." 

"Sorry," Liam says.

"Don't be. It was also pretty funny. In a really, really fucked up kind of way I mean."

"Everything's funny if you look at it the right way... and take out the politics," Liam says.

"That's a pretty good philosophy, I guess," Brett teases. "Anyway, I'd better get going, so-"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, you gotta pay." With that, they head back up to the counter. Brett looks at Liam's guitar as Liam's ringing up his stuff.

"Nice guitar."

"Thanks." It may as well be Liam's baby; he cares about it more than he cares about most people. 

"How long have you been playing?" Brett asks curiously as he hands over his card.

"Since I was eight, I think," Liam says. "So... ten years." 

"So you're eighteen, huh?"

"Checking if I'm legal?" Liam asks dryly.

"Maybe," Brett says, and Liam's surprised to find he can't find even a trace of a joke in Brett's tone. He looks up, but Brett's already looked away from him.

Liam bags up the CDs. "Receipt's in the bag," he says awkwardly. "Have a good day."

Brett smiles a little. "I'll see you next time."

~*~

Liam's beginning to regret telling Mason about all this. 

Right now, the music store is quiet, and Liam's trying to do his damn job with Mason hot on his heels, begging for details about Brett. 

"C'mon, Liam," he says. "There's gotta be more you noticed than tall, blonde, and blue-eyed."

"That's all I noticed," Liam says stubbornly. It's none of Mason's business if he's gotten off in the shower thinking about Brett's forearms or how his voice might sound if he-

"You should take a picture next time he comes in!" Mason exclaims suddenly. "That way I can pass judgment on my own."

"Are you serious?" Liam asks. "What am I supposed to do? Whip out my phone, say, smile, my best friend wants to rate you out of ten, and then move on with my life?"

"Yes," Mason says. Liam laughs, throwing a cleaning rag at him.

"Why didn't we ever give it a try, Li?" Mason muses.

"There are about a hundred reasons," Liam says dryly. "One, we're like brothers. Two, you were so fucking hung up on Corey you genuinely seemed to become part of him. Three, you like hooking up and casual encounters and I don't do that."

"I don't see why not," Mason says. "It'd be a good way to explore what you like and don't like." 

Liam shrugs flippantly, doesn't answer. Truth be told, he's still kind of coming to terms with the fact that he's different - that he's never going to fuck a girl or take one out on a date or have kids the conventional way. It's still strange to him - not necessarily bad, just strange. He's not really in the headspace to go out and bed random guys. And besides, what happens if he ends up with someone and then they both want to top? Or they both want to bottom? What happens then?

He could ask Mason. But he won't, because he's not really in the mood to be lectured about relationship dynamics. He's just not someone who can form quick, casual bonds with people and then show them the door. He never has been. Mostly, he's okay with that. Sometimes he's not - sometimes he really wants to go out and have sex with everything that moves - but mostly, he's okay knowing that eventually he'll find someone who's right for him.

Or if he gets lucky, when he's stumbling around in the dark searching, they'll find him. Which honestly sounds way more likely. 

"Man," Mason sighs. "It's dead." 

"You know you can leave, right?" Liam asks. "You don't actually work here. I know you're here almost as often as me, but-"

"I don't have anything to do," Mason groans. "Corey's not answering my messages."

"That's because you send him like fifty in a row, dude." Liam picks up the cleaning rag he threw at Mason before and throws it at him a second time. "Here. Earn your keep."

"I'm good," Mason says. "You want something to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, uh - there's a ten in my wallet, just some sushi or something."

Mason stands up. "Pay me later, dude," he says as he leaves. He doesn't have to ask what Liam wants - they've known each other since they were babies. He knows what Liam likes. He also knows Liam hates deviating from routine and gets the same thing every time.

The shop bell rings. "You back already?" Liam asks, surprised. "That was quick. I thought-"

He turns around, and the end of his sentence dies, because Brett's watching him amusedly.

"Expecting someone else?"

"No," Liam mumbles, embarrassed and trying not to stare. He looks so fucking good, he thinks, his eyes travelling Brett's body in what he hopes is a subtle manner. Brett's wearing black jeans and combat boots and a plain white t-shirt underneath a red flannel and Liam could die because seriously, Brett looks like a fucking model, and Liam's suddenly very, very aware that he's only 5'5" on a good day.

"I mean," Brett continues. "It's been a few days since I was here last. I didn't think I was stalking you that obviously."

Liam laughs a little at that, but he still feels awkward and uneasy. He doesn't know how to talk to Brett without fucking up - without Brett knowing he's gay.

_How am I supposed to flirt with people when I don't want to tell them I'm gay_? He wonders despairingly. _It's one thing to be out to Mason and my parents and Hayden, how am I supposed to tell other people who might be straight and homophobic?_

"You home?" Brett asks curiously.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry." Liam shakes his head. "What's up?"

"Looking for some more music," Brett says.

"Well, you are in a music store," Liam replies confusedly. "What else would you be looking for?" 

Brett gives him a pointed look, and Liam blinks at him. "Are... you interested in the guitars?" he asks hesitantly.

"Not exactly," Brett says. "I got through all those other albums."

"Already? You're quick, man. Uh, okay, so - what're you looking for this time?" Liam asks. "Anything in particular?"

"You tell me, dude. I'm easy, and you know what's up."

"Do I? Tell my roommate that." Liam gets his stepladder out from behind the counter and heads over to the rock section. He doesn't get to be here much, unless Brett's looking for something. Most people just ask for the most recent Taylor Swift CD.

"He doesn't like your music?"

"Not really. Especially when he's trying to study." Liam climbs onto his stepladder. "How do you feel about Icelandic alternative rock?"

"Neutral, I guess. Can't say I've listened to any before," Brett says jokingly.

Liam hands him a Björk CD, then begins to look for the Van Halen stuff he knows is up here.

"Li! Got your - oh. Hey."

Liam turns; Mason's come back into the store. "Hey, Mase," he calls. "I'll be there in a sec." 

"Got your sushi," Mason says - he's watching as Liam pulls out a few more CDs and adds them to the growing pile in Brett's hands. "Hey. I'm Mason," he says, offering his hand.

"Brett," Brett replies as he shakes it, holding the stack awkwardly with one hand.

"Brett!" Mason's eyes widen. "Uh - nice to meet you."

"You too. You a friend of Liam's?"

"Only his best and oldest," Mason says proudly. 

"He's proud of that," Liam says absently - he's sure there's an old copy of Muse's Origins of Symmetry up here somewhere. "It's his biggest accomplishment so far."

"Hey, I'm the only person alive who can live with you, dude. Damn right I'm proud of that."

"I've trained him to offer me sushi this time every day," Liam says, and Brett laughs. Liam, halfway through climbing off the stepladder, almost trips - Brett's got a fucking great laugh and Liam's almost breathless wanting to hear it again.

Mason gives him a strange, fond look. "Yeah. It's behind the counter. You're welcome. I'm keeping the change as a tip."

"You only had to cross the street!" Liam laughs  
.  
"Whatever, man." Mason claps his shoulder, then heads up behind the counter. "I don't work here, so I'm gonna eat."

"You know," Brett says as Mason heads up behind the counter, "if he ever falls through on the sushi, I'll bring it by."

"Oh, thanks," Liam says, looking up at him. "But you'd have to be in the area or something. Seems kinda inconvenient for you."

Mason shakes his head behind the counter. Liam blinks in confusion, and when he looks back to Brett, Brett's smiling at him.

"Uh," Liam says. "You gonna buy all of those?"

"Not today," Brett says. "Help me pick the best ones."

"Well, you gotta take Muse," Liam says. "They're one of the oldest bands out there. Really versatile with their sound, too. And Björk, you gotta take that, because it's a little different - Van Halen because they're basically a classic..."

Brett lets him prattle on for almost ten minutes, but their time's cut short when a customer enters. Brett pays quickly and leaves - and the other customer leaves shortly after, without buying anything, leaving Liam kind of disappointed. He was enjoying that conversation.

"He was flirting with you," Mason says.

"No he wasn't," Liam says dismissively. "He's just a nice guy."

"Liam, he offered to bring you sushi," Mason says.

"Yeah, so? It's just something you do, right?"

Mason sighs. "Dude. I love you like a brother. But you're fucking dense."

"I'm not dense!"

"You are. He was flirting. Mark my words."

Liam huffs.

"Next time Hayden's working I'm gonna tell her to keep an eye out for him," Mason says. "She'll tell you he's flirting too. We can't both be wrong." 

"You're getting Hayden involved?" Liam asks weakly.

"Yep."

"Mase..."

"A feminine perspective is useful!"

"Fine," Liam says. "But she'll tell you he's not flirting with me. You're seeing what you want to see because you want me to hook up with someone."

"Well it wouldn't be a bad thing," Mason shrugs. "And it'd be hot."

"Mason!"


	2. Two - A Battuta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad this got such a positive reception! :D Enjoy this one!

**Chapter Two - A Battuta**

**From** : Mom, 5:15AM  
Morning, sweetie!

**From** : Mom, 5:36AM  
Took the dog for a walk today. She misses you! You'll have to come home for a weekend soon. Take her for a run! She's getting fat.

**From** : Mom, 6:03AM  
I hope you're sleeping well! And that you're eating proper food - anything other than noodles, sweetie. You know what's in them!

**From** : Mom, 6:10AM  
Call me when you get the chance!

Liam groans. His eyes have been open for all of two minutes, his alarm blaring - it's seven in the morning - and he's already got four texts, a missed call and several "funny" chainmail email messages from his mom.

"Fuckin' empty nest syndrome," he mutters as he swings out of bed. Mason's already gone to class; Liam's exhausted. He stayed up late watching Firefly - he's still pissed off they cancelled it to be honest - and now he's gotta go to work and open up the shop. 

Still, he knows he'll probably call his mom on the way there. Because he's a good son. And also because secretly, he kind of misses her too.

He stands up, stretches, cracks his back, and does some push ups and sit ups before heading to the communal showers. He's always nervous in here, around the other guys; he doesn't want it to be obvious that he's gay. He's not even looking, really, but he's worried about getting ragged on. Apart from the damage it'll do to his admittedly fragile self-esteem, it'll probably trigger his I.E.D.

He doesn't stay in long; just enough to get clean before getting out, brushing his teeth sleepily, then heading back to his dorm. He takes his Risperdal, gags, as usual, because it tastes fucking awful - and he takes the liquid form because he was a bitch as a kid who wouldn't swallow a fucking tablet and he's never made the transition into them - and then pulls on some clothes.

He debates with himself, but eventually he packs up his guitar to take it to work. He arrives ten minutes before open and unlocks the front door, disables the alarm, and sets up behind the counter sleepily. 

He's been there for an hour or more on his own when Hayden walks in. She usually opens, because she's a morning person, but Liam owed her a favour.

"Morning," she says cheerfully.

"Hi," Liam responds sleepily. 

She puts down a brown paper bag on the counter. "Here."

"I don't do drugs," Liam says, and she laughs.

"It's a bagel. I knew you wouldn't eat."

He and Hayden tried dating for a bit. It didn't work, mostly because Liam's gay, but also because they inevitably butt heads when they're that close all the time. Still, she's one of the first people he's told, and she's been really good about it. 

"Thanks," he yawns, taking a bite. "Have fun at the party?"

She shrugs. "Enough fun, I guess. Josh got tanked. I had to carry him home."

"Seems shit," Liam says. His brain isn't quite up to functioning at the level it needs to be to hold a conversation. Still, he makes an effort. "What's that, the third time this week?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "I don't even know if he's going to class anymore."

"Mm," Liam mumbles agreeably, already halfway through his bagel. "Class sucks."

"Class would be fine if you woke up earlier," she says, tapping his forehead with two knuckles. "It isn't that bad."

"You get to leap around and do fun stuff," Liam says. "I get into an eight AM lecture and the first thing I see are dead bodies and blood splatters." 

"That's not my fault," she says. "Finish your bagel."

"Yes, Mom." He nearly chokes on his next bite. "Fuck, I forgot to call her."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah," Liam groans. "She's got empty nest syndrome. Apparently the dog isn't filling the void enough."

Hayden laughs. "I guess you can call her on break."

"Mm." Liam stands up, cracks his back, and yawns. "Okay. Inventory."

"Sounds thrilling."

"Yeah, fuck you."

Liam's out on the floor doing inventory, pretty uneventfully, until almost eleven, when the shop bell rings. He looks up - the noise never fails to catch his attention, even though Hayden ignores it every time - and sees a blonde guy saunter in.

He turns back to his work; Hayden's technically the floor staff at the moment. He's just meant to put things on shelves.

"Hey."

Liam turns around, startled to find the blonde guy standing literally right behind him. "Hi," he says, feeling a little bemused. "Can I help you?"

The guy smiles. "Hopefully."

Liam scrunches his nose up a bit, because what the fuck is that supposed to mean? "Uh... cool," he says awkwardly.

"Do you work here full time?" the guy asks conversationally. 

How is that relevant to anything? Liam wonders. "Just part time. College and all that." 

"Oh yeah? Me too."

Feeling completely out of his depth, Liam turns around to look at Hayden briefly. She's watching the exchange with a huge grin on her face, leaning on the counter - and isn't making any move to help him, even when he widens his eyes pleadingly at her.

Liam scowls at her before turning back to the guy. "Yeah," he says slowly. "Uh... so... can I help you find something?"

"I think so," the guy says, and Liam suppresses an irritated tic threatening to start pulsing in his jaw. "My name's Garrett. So... Liam, right?" 

_I'm wearing a fucking nametag_ , Liam thinks waspishly. "Yeah."

"Liam. Nice to meet you. What kind of music are you into?" 

"Um... rock, mostly. Some punk." Liam gestures at the counter helplessly. "Look, I um, I have to do inventory, so-"

"Excuse me." 

Liam turns around, again, and sees Brett standing there. He's smiling, but it's sort of tight, controlled. Liam blinks. 

"Sorry for interrupting," Brett says. "I was just wondering if you could point me the right way? I'm looking for a band - their name's Rise Against?" 

Liam feels his mouth twitching up into a smile. He's not sure why Brett's acting like he doesn't know him, but it's sort of funny in its own way.

"They're, um." Fuck, he can't wipe the smile off his face. "They're in the punk-rock section."

"Okay, thanks," Brett says, and saunters away. 

"So," Garrett says. "Punk rock, huh? My brother's in a band. They have this really unique sound, you know, kind of indietronica with some grindcore elements. They're called the Barber Shop Bashers."

_Some what and what_? Liam wonders, bewildered, even as he nods along with everything Garrett's saying. 

"Maybe you should check them out," Garrett says.

"Uh-"

"I couldn't find it," Brett says, and Liam turns again to find him standing there, looking - okay, Liam's not dumb, that's a deliberately innocent expression. He knows deceit when he sees it. "Could it be anywhere else?"

"Trying to have a conversation here," Garrett mutters under his breath. 

"Sorry," Liam says, not sounding nearly as apologetic as he probably should. "Uh, I'll come help you find it in a sec, okay?"

"Okay," Brett says, and takes his leave again.

Liam turns back to Garrett, who seems to have regained his composure. He flashes a smile at Liam, and Liam's first instinct is to be kind of grossed out by how arrogant and cheap it looks on his face. He just tries not to scowl back.

"Here." Garrett hands him a bit of paper. "That's my brother's band. You should totally look them up, yeah? If you like them, let me know."

"Uh - yeah." Liam shoves the bit of paper in his pocket. 

"Nice meeting you, Liam," Garrett says, and then he's turning and walking out. 

Liam blinks, shakes his head, and goes to where Brett is standing - in the pop section. He looks at Liam innocently when Liam approaches.

"Still can't find it."

"Shocking, considering you're standing right next to Katy Perry and Taylor Swift," Liam says dryly, leading Brett over to the rock section and climbing up onto his stepladder. "They're right up the top. Kind of getting more popular, I guess, but not enough to warrant having them within reach, which is a pain in the ass." 

"At least I've got you to help me find them," Brett says, smiling up at him.

"Yeah. Or Hayden, she's really good at being able to find stuff around here." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hayden facepalm, shake her head, and turn back to the computer. He frowns a little, but continues his search.

"So how often do you use the stepladder?" 

"Ha ha," Liam grumbles, finding Rise Against's newest album and pulling it down. "Is this what you're after?"

Brett barely looks at it before he smiles and nods. "Thanks." 

"No problem." Liam climbs down. "Man, you must go through a lot of CD racks," he says. "I didn't think anyone bought them anymore."

"I like having physical copies," Brett says. "Just in case. Never know what might happen to your iTunes library at any given moment, right?"

"Right." Liam rocks on the balls of his feet a little, struggling to meet Brett's eyes. "Can I help you with anything else?" 

"I'm good," Brett says. "I think this'll do me... until the next time you're working, anyway."

"Hayden really is pretty good," Liam says. "And she's got the same taste in music as me - you don't have to wait until I'm on for some good music."

"Oh, Liam," Hayden sighs as he approaches.

"What?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Nothing." She starts bagging up Brett's CDs as Liam puts them through the computer. "You're just being... well, you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Liam grumbles. Brett laughs. Liam feels like everyone is clued into whatever this joke is except him, which bothers him a little - but he can always ask Hayden later, he supposes.

"Nothing, Liam." Hayden smiles at Brett. "Here. Have a good day."

"It comes out so much sincerer when you say it," Liam says, bemused.

"That's because I mean it." 

"No you don't. You hate half the customers who come in here."

"Actually," Hayden says, "I'd say that number is closer to three quarters. But I get your point." 

"Kill 'em with kindness," Brett says.

"Exactly," Hayden says. "Anyway, inventory."

Liam's about to tell her that he's already done inventory, but she's left, which leaves him standing with Brett. Brett smiles at him.

"So," he says. "I'll let you know what I think. And seriously... a band called the Barber Shop Bashers probably aren't any good."

"You were listening?" Liam asks.

"His voice kind of carried." 

Liam chuckles a little.

"Okay," Brett sighs. "See you later."

"Bye," Liam calls, watching him leave. As he does, Hayden exits the storeroom.

"The Barber Shop Bashers?" she asks.

"Yeah." 

"And their genre is - what did he say? Indietronica?"

"And grindcore."

"What the fuck is _indietronica_?" Hayden demands.

Liam raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Dunno what grindcore is either," he admits.

"Aww." She yanks him in by his neck - and fuck, he hates being shorter than her - and rubs a fist into his hair, scruffing it up. "You're just a _fake_ punk rock baby."

"Fuck you, Hayds." 

"That other guy was pretty cute," she teases. "What's his name?"

"Brett," Liam mumbles.

"Brett, huh? He didn't like Mr. My Brother's In A Band flirting with you." 

Liam blinks. "That guy was flirting with me?"

Hayden's face crumples in what Liam realises, with indignation, is sympathy and pity. "Liam," she says patiently. "He told you his name and about his brother's band. He was flirting with you, sweetie."

"Don't call me sweetie," Liam grumbles. "That can't have been flirting. If someone was flirting with me I'd know about it."

Hayden bursts into laughter, and Liam feels his pride sting. "No you wouldn't," she giggles. "You wouldn't know flirting if it waved a red flag in front of your face. That was definitely flirting. It was terrible, but it was flirting." 

Liam sighs, sinking onto the stool behind the counter. "I suck at this," he says mournfully.

Hayden rubs his shoulders, still giggling a little. "That's okay," she says. "If it's any consolation, you'd suck if you were straight too." 

"I wouldn't be doing any sucking if I was straight," Liam says, and she hits him with the feather duster.

~*~

"You look beat," Mason says when Liam enters their dorm.

Liam tosses his bag down. "I had a really weird day," he says. "Hayden said some guy was flirting with me."

"I know." Mason holds his phone up. "She told me."

"Of course she did," Liam says sourly, slumping onto his bed with a power bar. "Do you think he was?"

"He definitely was," Mason agrees. "And if you see him again you should go on a date with him."

"Why?" Liam asks blankly. He doesn't see the point of that when he's so hung up on Brett. Brett, who was trying to save him from that douche today - at least according to Hayden, anyway. 

"Get some experience, dude!" Mason says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Just go on a date. It won't be that bad!"

"It will be that bad," Liam says. "I'll hate it. I don't know how to date."

"Liam, if you want a boyfriend eventually, you have to date," Mason points out. "Or download Grindr, or something, but seeing as you're a prude and won't do that last one, you should probably date."

"I'm not a prude," Liam mumbles. "I just don't see the point of going on a date with someone I don't like."

"How do you know you don't like him?" Mason asks skeptically.

"I met him," Liam replies dryly. "Today. I don't like him." 

"Hayden said he was sort of cute."

"He wasn't," Liam says flatly.

Mason stares at him for a moment. And then, "Holy shit, Liam, are you pining?"

"What?" Liam asks.

"You are!" Mason looks pretty happy about whatever discovery he's made about Liam's psyche; Liam just hopes he's clued into it as well. "You're totally pining for Brett, aren't you? You don't see the point of anyone else because you're so smitten with him."

"I'm not pining or smitten," Liam rebukes weakly. 

"Liar," Mason says smugly. "You're pining for him."

Liam sighs. "Whatever makes you happy, Mason."

~*~

He can't sleep.

He's turning it over and over in his head - Garrett hitting on him. According to Hayden, anyway. Was he really? Or was Hayden just messing with him?

He rolls onto his back, sighing deeply. He's feeling hot, bothered, even though it's winter and Mason's squirreled away under almost half a dozen different blankets. Tonight is one of those nights where Liam wished he had the easy attitude Mason has to dating - get laid, then get to know each other and be pleasantly surprised.

But Liam can't think like that. The most sexual experience he has with a guy is when Stiles drunkenly kissed him at a party, mistaking him for Malia (somehow; Liam's not sure that Stiles was only drunk). Still, he knows he's gay the same way he knows he's left handed, that it won't change, and that somehow, he's gotta get more comfortable with it.

He doesn't hate himself. That's not it. He's not suffering from internalised homophobia or anything like that. His parents and friends love him. He's never been called a faggot or a fairy or anything like that. He doesn't hate being gay. Doesn't think it's wrong. But he's struggling to come to terms with the fact that he's different, when he's spent his whole life desperately trying to fit a ridiculously tiny mould without spilling over the edges.

He was different anyway. His upbringing, his struggle with mood swings, and then finally his diagnosis with his I.E.D - he was already different. He thought being straight was the one normal thing he could hang onto, but as it turns out, he's got a different kind of normal - a normal, perfectly healthy attraction to guys. Which everyone tells him is okay. 

He rolls over again. Mason shifts sleepily, groaning. "Liam?"

"Sorry, Mase."

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just having trouble sleeping." 

It's not like that's a lie, either. He tosses and turns all night, irritated and frustrated by his inability to get to sleep, and, when he finally does drop off, his alarm wakes him up less than three hours later. He's cold from where he's kicked off the blankets - a deep, icy coldness that seems to have seeped right into his skin - and he's painfully, achingly hard.

He grumbles to himself, looks to the side. Mason's gone to class; once Liam realises he's alone, he's got his hand around his dick and he's biting his lip, eyes closed, as he imagines Brett looming over him, his fingers and hands everywhere, his eyes heavy with lust.

Liam comes in under two minutes, shuddering, and then immediately regretting not getting out of bed to take care of himself. Now he's messy and sticky and somehow still has to get to the shower. 

He showers quickly, gets dressed, and yawns through his entire lecture, waiting for it to end just so he can get out and go to work - where, even though he'll be bored, he won't have to be paying attention to a lecturer. 

Of course, the day Liam gets himself off, moaning Brett's name and imaging Brett doing a whole smorgasbord of things to him, Brett would walk into the music store.

Liam's mouth goes dry; he's been thinking about Brett's hand being wrapped around his dick almost all morning, even after he came. So naturally, when said object of Liam's affection walks into the shop, wearing blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a flannel over the top, Liam loses his shit.

And by "loses his shit" he means he promptly drops a pile of CD's in his haste to scramble up behind the counter. 

"You okay?" Brett asks, coming over to help.

"Ah, yeah," Liam stammers awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Didn't mean to scare you," Brett says as he begins picking things up. "Guess it's been a quiet morning?"

"Yeah. Pretty quiet." Liam's still fumbling with the CD's, but he manages to pick them up and stand upright, finally. "Hi," he says lamely.

Brett laughs. "Hi." 

There's a brief moment of silence, then; eventually, Liam, feeling uncomfortable, gestures to the shelves and says, "I should really uh, I should... take this. Put it back." _Jesus. Smooth, Liam. You haven't been this stuttery since you realised you liked Scott._

"Right." Brett nods seriously. "Do music store type things. I get it. You got time to talk?"

"About what?" Liam asks. 

"Is the amount of time you have to talk dependent on the subject matter?" Brett asks, and Liam feels his mouth open a little, because he's seriously trying to work out what Brett said. Anyone else and he'd be fine, but right now his stupid brain is simultaneously high on endorphins and in a state of screaming nervousness, and is completely useless.

"No?" he asks.

Brett smiles. "It's okay. I'm not going to quiz you or anything like that. You're safe."

"Okay." Liam's not sure what from; if Brett quizzed him Liam would answer everything. He can't say that for many people, but Brett's been pretty nice to him - and he's hot, which kind of helps to loosen Liam's tongue. And get it tied in a knot at the same time, unfortunately. 

"I just wanted to know - what kind of stuff do you like? Personally."

"Uh..." Liam peers down at Brett from his stepladder. "Stuff...?"

"Sorry. Music stuff." 

"Oh. All the ones I've recommended really. But um, Pearl Jam especially is my favourite."

"Do you have any more Pearl Jam?" Brett asks.

Liam smiles and nods. "You must really have liked the other stuff I sold you," he says. "You keep comin' back for more."

"What's that?" Brett asks, smiling.

"What's what?"

"That accent."

Liam blushes, as if on cue. "Uh - Texas," he says. "I grew up in Texas." 

"Southern, huh?"

Liam nods. "Till I was ten or eleven."

"How'd you end up out this way?"

"Stepdad moved for work. I never completely kicked the accent, though. Kind of sucks." He climbs up his ladder to reach some of Pearl Jam's older stuff. "Lived out this way since then, really. Still not used to the cold. Probably never will be." 

"It gets a little easier," Brett says. 

"Oh yeah, you're from around here, huh?"

"Yeah. My parents live about forty five minutes from here. I rent, though, closer to campus." 

"Bachelor pad?" Liam starts handing down CD's.

 

"Roommate. He's cool though." 

"So why'd you move back here?" Liam asks curiously. "You said you went to UCB. That's a pretty good school, right? I mean, this is an okay school. Just most people would wanna go elsewhere."

Brett gives him a small smile, hesitates, then opens his mouth.

"Shit," Liam says, realising quite suddenly he's touched on something painful. "Sorry. Didn't mean to - uh - you know. Never mind. Didn't mean to be nosy." 

"That's okay," Brett says. "I'd just rather not talk about it."

"Fine by me," Liam says. He knows there are plenty of fucking things he never wants to talk about, like, ever. Like his dad or that he's gay or his immense trust issues or his general inexperience, sexually, with either gender. Yeah, he'd rather not discuss any of that, so he's not exactly in a position to push. 

"Sure?"

Liam blinks. "Yeah? You don't have to tell me stuff. That's okay. Just stop me talking if I get annoying."

"You aren't annoying," Brett says, giving him an oddly gentle look. 

Liam smiles. "Good to know." 

Brett holds up the stack Liam's given him. "This is a lot of money," he says.

"Oh," Liam says sheepishly. "Sorry. I don't get to recommend stuff very often. Most people come in knowing what they want."

"And what's that, usually?"

"Whatever new and awful pop bubblegum shit is on the radio, mostly Taylor Swift, Katy Perry and fucking Pitbull, who I swear is only ever featured on other people's tracks. And they're all fucking autotuned anyway."

"Wow," Brett laughs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you all riled up."

Liam goes a little red. "I... yeah. Have strong opinions."

"Just about that?"

Liam purses his lips; he's not even going to get into what they're studying in his criminology classes right now. "Not just about that. But if you get me started you'll be here all day."

"Well, if I'm gonna be here all day, we might as well have coffee, right?" Brett asks. "What do you drink?"

_I don't_ , Liam thinks blankly. "I, uh - I don't drink coffee," he says. "Much."

"I'll surprise you then." And with that, Brett's sauntering out of the store.

Liam blinks after him, stunned. He hesitates, then decides, somewhat reluctantly, to keep stacking the shelves.

Brett's back fifteen minutes later, carrying two coffees. "Here," he says, putting one down on the counter. "Try it."

Liam smiles a little. "You didn't have to do that," he says. "But thanks. I've got money in my-"

"My shout," Brett says. 

Liam hesitates, but he is pretty poor. So instead of insisting, he says, "My shout next time?" 

Brett's face bursts into a delighted grin. "Sure."

Liam's not sure what he's said to make the guy so happy, but that smile pretty much rendered him breathless, and he's so, so fucking gone on Brett it's embarrassing and he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he sips at his coffee. 

"It's good," he says, surprised. "I don't normally like it. Just drink it to stay awake."

"I ordered half-strength," Brett says.

Liam feels himself beginning to smile. Brett's nice. And Liam's got a thing for almost everyone who's nice to him, really. The list is woefully short, and it took him years to trust them. Still, it's better than having fake friends, he supposes.

"So," Brett says. "Any more music for me?"


	3. Three - Aber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so sweet in the comments! :D This one's a little bit longer, too. Hopefully we don't mind the inclusion of a temporary date for Liam - Briam, as always, is endgame. :P Also, thanks for your suggestions! If you have any, PLEASE leave them in the comments or over at my tumblr, because they're really helpful :P Enjoy!

**Chapter Three - Aber**

"Hi."

Liam looks up from his list.

The first thing he notices is that the guy standing in front of him is, well, kind of cute. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, a smattering of stubble across his jaw. He's smiling, and he looks friendly, and Liam's pretty sure he's seen him in the shop before, but Liam's guard is almost instantly up - thinking about Garrett and how much he doesn't want a repeat of that.

"Hi," Liam replies. "Can I help you with something?" 

"Um, yeah," the guy says, chuckling. "Listen, my name's Noah. I don't usually do stuff like this, but you kind of caught my attention. Do you wanna go out and get dinner sometime?"

Liam blinks; he feels completely stunned. "Dinner?"

"Yeah." Noah laughs a little, self-consciously. "I checked with the girl who works here - Hayden? I wasn't sure if you were into guys, I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. Sorry if I did."

"I - no," Liam says, still kind of reeling. "You just took me by surprise is all. I um-"

The shop bell rings, and a group of rowdy teenagers pours in. Noah smiles at him.

"Got a pen?" 

Liam hands him the pen he's holding, and Noah pulls the notepad at the counter towards him, scribbling down his name and number. "Here," he says. "If you decide you want to, just give me a call or something. If not, no hard feelings." 

"Thanks," Liam says, floundering. "I will."

Noah smiles and leaves, a little awkwardly, which at least puts Liam at ease - he wasn't the only one fumbling then. 

He looks down at the number and Noah's name. Noah is good looking. And not kind of pushy, like Garrett was. And he straight up asked Liam out - which, considering Liam's inability to identify flirting, is great, because Liam actually understood the message.

But then there's Brett.

Liam hasn't seen Brett in almost two weeks, even though the last time he did, Brett brought him coffee and then hung around the store for a little while. Liam's feeling pretty confused about the whole thing. He's trying to work out what he did wrong, but he can't think of anything. All they did was talk music. 

Maybe, for once, Mason's right when he tells Liam not to get hung up on something and move on. Liam doesn't want to be stuck waiting around for Brett when Brett is probably straight. And even if he wasn't, there's no guarantee that he'd like Liam.

"Yo! Dude! Where's your trap music?"

Liam sighs and heads down to the front of the shop.

~*~

His talk with Mason doesn't really help him make up his mind.

Mason thinks in terms of getting laid; Liam thinks in terms of getting to know someone first. Mason tells him to go for it - that it can't hurt, that the guy sounds okay, that he can't pine for Brett forever. And he's got a point there.

Still, Liam needs a second opinion, and Hayden's met Noah by the sounds of it. So he makes the short trip to her dorm room.

The girls' dorms make him nervous. Their doors are always open, and there's always at least one of them walking around in a towel, and the whole place smells like hairspray and sugar and sweet things, with an underlying scent of instant noodles.

Hayden's dorm is at the front of the hall, thankfully. Liam only has to pass three other rooms - the two across the hall and the one next to Hayden - to get there. A few of the girls look at him appraisingly, but only one or two pay him any real attention, giggling and then disappearing to their dorms.

Sometimes, he's glad he's gay. His nerves probably wouldn't withstand being here half the week if he had a girlfriend he had to put effort into and see regularly.

Hayden and her roommate, Sydney, are sitting on the floor when he reaches their open door. There's music spilling out of a docked iPod near Hayden's bed, and they're both smiling.

Liam knocks sheepishly, and they both turn around. Hayden looks pretty pleased to see him; he doesn't come round here often, and she doesn't like his dorm hall. Not that he can blame her; he doesn't like it much either.

“Hi, Li,” Hayden says. She’s painting Sydney’s nails a deep black colour. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Liam flounders; Sydney always goes quiet when he’s around, never looks at him. Liam’s pretty sure she hates him for some reason. “Maybe - maybe I better come back later. You look busy.”

“I’m almost done,” Hayden says, tongue poking out as she concentrates on Sydney’s nails. “Want me to do yours next?”

Liam scowls. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Come on,” she laughs, her smile wide and teasing. “Don’t just stand there. You can sit down.”

He eyes the pillows, blankets, and clothes strewn everywhere. “Doesn’t look like there’s anywhere to sit,” he mutters.

Hayden flings a cushion at his face. He manages to catch it before it hits him and lowers it to glare at her before he slinks into their dorm room and sits down, hesitantly, on Hayden’s desk chair. He tries to make himself small, because Sydney’s still not looking up at him or talking to him. She looks sort of red.

“Done,” Hayden announces with the next stroke. “All ready for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” Liam asks curiously.

“Sorority meeting,” Hayden says. 

Liam wrinkles his nose.

“Hey, just because you didn’t join a fraternity-”

“I didn’t want to join a fraternity,” Liam says irritably, “because I’m gay and they would tear me apart.”

“You’re gay?” Sydney asks suddenly.

“Uh - yeah.” Liam blinks. He’s not sure why she’s suddenly talking to him, and he thinks with trepidation that maybe she’s homophobic or something. “Um-”

“You could’ve told me,” Sydney whines to Hayden.

“You can’t out people, Syd,” Hayden points out.

“Should I go?” Liam asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable - or be uncomfortable himself, really. He’d rather leave and spare them all the awkwardness.

“No!” Hayden says immediately, looking sympathetic. “She - she doesn’t-”

“I don’t care that you’re gay,” Sydney says quickly. “And I have to leave now anyway.” She stands up, grabbing her bag. “Bye, Liam.”

“Bye,” he mumbles.

Hayden waits until she leaves before coming to stand in front of Liam, pulling him into a hug. He sighs as he gives into it, resting his head on her stomach and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You know there are more people who accept you being gay than there are who don’t, right, Li?” she asks quietly.

Liam pulls away. “And what happens when I meet someone who doesn’t?” he asks quietly.

Hayden sighs quietly, running a hand through Liam’s hair. “Liam, I…”

Liam shrugs. “Just could happen. Only takes one less than friendly person, and I’m the next Matthew Shepard. I don't want to get my head bashed in.” And seriously, he's in a crime course; he knows the statistics. His mom freaks out over the statistics, calls him every day because she's so worried about what could happen. Liam's very aware of what happens when someone bigoted and homophobic enough meets someone like him.

Hayden flinches. “Don’t say that,” she says. “I don’t even wanna think about - someone hurting you. You shouldn’t have to worry about every person you meet just because some are dicks.”

“I shouldn’t,” Liam says. “But I do.”

Hayden looks at him sadly, biting her lip. Liam shakes himself mentally; she’s been worried enough about him the last year, watching him struggle to somehow be himself while simultaneously trying to hide, his struggle with his IED and medications, and eventually coming out. He doesn’t want her to worry anymore.

“Anyway, that’s - not what I came here for,” he says. “I actually kind of wanted some advice.”

She sits down on her bed, smiling. She’s got a pretty smile; it’s what initially drew Liam to her. That and how tenacious she is. “Advice?” she asks. “Liam Dunbar doesn’t ask for advice.”

“He does now.” Liam shifts. “Um, so, this guy came into the shop today - Noah. He asked me out."

Her face lights up. "That's great!" she says excitedly. "I was kind of hoping he would - he seems really sweet. So? What’d you say?”

“I haven’t yet,” Liam says nervously. “Mason told me to go for it, but Mason just wants me to get laid. So, um, with that in mind… what do you think I should…?”

She looks at him thoughtfully. “It couldn’t hurt,” she says. “Getting laid aside, it’ll at least give you some experience dating. Someone who’s not me at least. And maybe you’ll end up having loads in common.”

“Maybe,” Liam says doubtfully. "I don't know him. Like at all." 

“Hey,” she says. “Look. If you don’t wanna go out with him, don’t. Don’t do it if it doesn’t feel right, okay? I know you like Brett-”

“I don’t,” Liam denies flatly. “And he’s straight. So it wouldn’t matter even if I did. And he hasn't come by the store in two weeks anyway.”

Hayden knows he’s lying, but she loves him enough to only raise one eyebrow, then let it slide. “Go on the date then. You can always call it off if you don’t want to go through with it. Or just not see him again.”

"That feels really cruel," Liam says uncomfortably. "To just tell him I don't wanna keep seeing him, I mean."

"He's a nice guy, Liam. I'm sure he'd understand. Sometimes things just don't work out."

Liam ponders that for a while; Hayden reaches over him, to her desk, and picks up a bottle of dark blue nail polish. Liam wrinkles his nose at the scent of it, but doesn't say anything.

"Why do you do that?" he asks after a while.

"What? Paint my nails?" Hayden shrugs. "So I don't bite them, mostly."

Liam looks down at his own fingernails, which are ragged - biting them is a nervous habit and he's spent a lot of time being nervous lately. "Maybe I should try painting them," he says ruefully. 

Hayden holds up the black bottle, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Liam says flatly. "You realise that everyone will know I'm gay if I do that?"

"No they won't. They might think it but they can't know for sure unless you tell them." She pulls out another bottle - it's clear. "This one goes on clear and tastes bad," she says. "You could try it."

"I don't need nice nails," Liam says. "What I need is to be less jumpy and nervous around every guy I come across." 

Hayden shrugs. "You'll get there eventually, Li. And it doesn't matter that you're nervous. You're cute enough that it's endearing." 

Liam sighs, rubbing his face, and stands up to pace around the room. "Sure."

"Hey. I dated you, didn't I? You can't be that bad."

"I suppose," Liam says, stopping in front of the pinboard next to Hayden's bed and surveying the photos there. "Now it just needs to work on a guy."

"It did," Hayden points out. "Now you've just gotta go on a date with him, fall in love, and marry him."

Liam wrinkles his nose. Hayden laughs.

"You don't need to look so disgusted. It's love, not an STD."

"Might as well be. Feelings catch." 

She kicks him as he walks past again. "Stop pacing," she says, "go home and call him."

"Fine," Liam says. "But if it goes badly I blame you." 

~*~

Liam's a pacer.

When he's stressed and he has the room, he paces. It drives Mason crazy, so Liam tries not to do it too much. Lucky for him, Mason's not here right now.

The phone's been ringing so long Liam's about to hang up, and then someone answers. "Hello?" the voice asks.

Liam's heart jumps up into his throat. "Um, hi. It's Liam, you gave me your number today...?"

"Liam!" The voice sounds much happier now. "Hey. I didn't think you were going to call."

"Oh, no, I was going to, I just had to work out my roster for the next week." Liam wanders to the window. "Guess you've got my number now anyway."

"Yeah." Liam's not used to someone sounding so genuinely happy to be talking to him; it's making him a little nervous. "So...?"

"So, uh - yeah, let's get dinner," Liam says awkwardly, and Noah laughs. "Or lunch. I don't mind which." 

"Lunch is better," Noah says. "You know Milano's?" 

"Vaguely," Liam says.

"Okay. How about there? Eleven thirty? We can beat the lunch rush."

"Mhm." And fuck if he isn't actually starting to feel happy he called. "What day?"

"What day suits you?" 

"I'm good Mondays and Wednesdays. And some Fridays." 

"Monday works for me," Noah says. "So... Monday. Eleven thirty. Milano's?"

"Yeah," Liam breathes, smiling. "That sounds good." 

There's a long pause, and then Noah says, almost shyly, "So... I'll see you there?" 

"Yeah," Liam says, grinning. "Yeah, you'll see me there."

Monday is three days away.

~*~

“You look great,” Hayden says kindly.

Liam pulls on the hem of his shirt - which is much tighter than any he’d usually wear - and shifts where he’s standing. “Yeah?” he asks uncomfortably.

“Yeah. You do.” She pats at his shoulders. “Noah’s going to want to rip your clothes off.”

“If he does, make sure you tell me,” Mason says. “One of us has to get laid. I can live vicariously through you.”

“I don't want to fuck him," Liam protests feebly. "At least not right now."

“… That’s a really, really bad attitude to have on a date, Liam,” Mason points out.

“Maybe Liam wants to get to know him first,” Hayden suggests pointedly. “Which is why he’s going on a date, and not swiping right on Grindr.”

Liam looks up at her and smiles thankfully. Hayden gets it. Not that Mason doesn’t - Liam’s sure he does, somewhere deep down inside. But Hayden’s in the same boat, really - she doesn’t want quick hookups either. She wants something real and tangible.

“Okay,” Hayden says, tossing him his denim jacket. “There. You’re all set. If it goes badly, text me and I’ll come up with an excuse to get you out of there.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He's pretty fucking nervous as he says goodbye and leaves his dorm - Milano's is about two blocks away from work, so at least it's easy to get to. 

He has to stand on the bus, not that he particularly minds. He fidgets nervously with his phone - he and Noah have texted a little bit since Liam called him, but meeting face-to-face again still feels strange to him. He's pretty fucking nervous. 

He sends Noah a text - be there in 20 - and then rocks on the balls of his feet, shuffling over a little as an elderly lady steps onto the bus. He doesn't have a seat to give her, or he would. 

The bus finally stops outside his work - and the little old lady is getting off too, looking a little unsteady, so Liam stops to help her down the steps. She thanks him, smiling, calls him a good boy, and goes on her way.

She sort of reminds Liam of his own grandma; he should really go see her soon. College has kept him busy but it's a little quieter now. 

He doesn't have to wait long for Noah; he shows up at exactly eleven thirty, wearing blue jeans, a dark green t-shirt and a leather jacket. 

"Hey!" he says to Liam, smiling. "You made it."

"Yep." Liam smiles back. He's not sure what to do, but that problem's quickly solved when Noah gets right up in his personal space and hugs him tightly.

Liam suppresses his body's urge to flinch - he hates sudden, unsolicited contact, and this is no exception to the rule. Noah doesn't seem to notice, though; he just smiles widely at Liam when he pulls away and says, "You wanna go in?"

Liam nods and follows Noah in, reminding himself not to be weird. Or at least to try and not be weird. He's not convinced not being weird is really an option for him at this point in his life. 

They sit down where the waitress directs them to; Noah smiles. "So, I realised the other day... I know basically nothing about you."

Liam chuckles awkwardly. "Not much to know, really. Ask me anything."

"What do you study?" Noah asks immediately. 

"Forensics and criminology," Liam says. He feels like this question has come up a lot since he started at college. "First year."

"Ah, I'm second. That's cool though. I'm doing performing arts."

"Hayden's doing that," Liam says. "That and music." 

"The girl at the record shop?"

Liam nods.

"Thought I'd seen her before," Noah says. "Guess I know where now. Apart from the shop, that is. Why'd you wanna study criminology?"

Liam doesn't really want to tell Noah the reason - especially not on a first date when he barely he knows him - so he shrugs and says, "I was good at all the science stuff in high school. And psychology. I'd like to do more of that." Which is his way of dodging the question. Not that Noah seems to realise that's what he's doing.

There are a few awkward pauses in the conversation, but mostly, it goes pretty well, Liam thinks - he's not tempted to text Hayden with an SOS message, so that's a good sign. Especially for him. 

Lunch is good, and they split the bill; Noah walks with Liam back to the bus stop. He doesn't live in the dorms anymore - lucky him, Liam hates the dorms - he lives with his parents, about a half hour's drive away. 

Noah doesn't kiss him goodbye, which Liam's sort of grateful for. He's felt nervous ever since they left, thinking about what might happen if Noah tried that. The hug set his teeth on edge, after all.

He's hardly surprised when he walks through the door to his room and finds Mason and Hayden still there - even though it's four hours later. They're both pretending to be busy, but Liam knows they've probably been waiting. He gives them both a dirty look as he ditches his jacket and throws his wallet on the desk.

"So?" Mason's the first to break. "How'd it go?"

"It was good," Liam says succinctly.

Hayden rolls her eyes. "You've gotta give us more than that."

Liam sighs. "It really was good. It only got awkward a couple of times, and we had some stuff in common, I guess." He decides not to mention the hug, just in case they start sharing pitying, worried looks over his head. "I dunno. I guess I'll do it again if he asks."

"He asked you first," Mason says. "Dating 101: the person who was asked out initiates the second date."

"That's a dumb rule." 

"Gotta agree with Liam, Mase," Hayden says. "That is a pretty dumb rule. Give it a day or so, let it settle. Then decide." 

Just then, Liam's phone vibrates; he takes it out of his pocket.

 **From** : Noah, 3:12PM  
I had a great time today. Can I see you again? :)

"I've been out of the closet since I was old enough to talk, and you're still going to get a steady boyfriend before me," Mason says. "That seems unfair, but I'm happy for you, dude." 

"I'll ask him if he's got any friends," Liam says, and Mason laughs.

~*~

Thursday's shift is sucking the life out of him.

He's so bored he's sung at least five songs in a pretty good Cartman voice, without getting interrupted once. And Liam doesn't usually sing, so he knows he's more bored than usual.

He and Noah are still texting. Noah has a flair for drama that's not really Liam's thing, but hey, everyone's got their quirks, and Liam has so many he's not about to judge anyone else's. Still, waking up to a screen-length text about the beauty of that morning's sunrise, while Liam can appreciate the thought behind it, feels weird, considering they've been on one date.

Hayden tells him not to overthink it, that it's incredibly sweet that Noah sees the sunrise and messages Liam about it, but Liam's not romantically minded enough to appreciate the noise of his phone going off at six in the morning. Still, he's trying. He's sure Noah will be inevitably disappointed when he realises Liam is not only dense, but incredibly unpoetic. 

That hasn't happened yet, though, and they're setting up another date sometime soon, when they both have time - this time for dinner. Which somehow feels much more formal and serious than lunch does. 

His phone vibrates, and he pretty much lunges for it - anything is better than his current state of boredom.

 **From** : Noah, 9:18AM  
You busy? :)

Liam chews his lip. He's not about to invite his sort-of-potential-boyfriend to watch him work at the music store.

 **To** : Noah, 9:18AM  
@ work. Fml 

**From** : Noah, 9:19AM  
Damn. :(

Liam bites his lip. He's had to reject Noah's invitations for the last few days because of homework, work, class, and various other commitments, like Skyping with his mom just to convince her he's not wasting away.

 **To** : Noah, 9:20AM  
Maybe later? After 4ish?

 **From** : Noah, 9:20AM  
:)

Liam never knows what to say to those smileys, so he puts his phone away and leans on his hands, sighing. He's not about to read the damn magazines a fourth time in a row in the hopes of something new showing up. 

He looks up when the bell rings - and his jaw drops in slight shock as he sees Brett enter.

So Brett's not avoiding him, possibly. Brett's back. Brett's back, and-

Brett looks exhausted, Liam realises. Flat out dead to the world tired, like he's barely standing up. 

He doesn't know what to say. He hasn't seen Brett in two weeks and he wasn't sure he would again or why, but now that he knows, just by looking at him, that something serious had to have happened, he feels selfish for ever thinking it was purely because of him.

"Hey," he says quietly.

Brett looks up, and he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Hi, Liam. Long time no see."

"Yeah. My, uh, my boss commented on the dip in sales." He didn't really, but Liam's trying to make Brett laugh - which he does, tiredly. It's something, though.

"You look wrecked," Liam says nervously.

"Mm. Not sleeping well."

Liam hesitates before saying anything else. "You wanna sit down behind the counter or something?" he asks. "You look like you're gonna fall. I don't know any first aid." 

"That'd be great, actually. But is that okay?"

"My boss never checks the security footage," Liam says, stepping aside so Brett can slump down onto the stool. "Hayden and I spend lots of time air-guitaring to Led Zeppelin in here. He's never commented on it and we're still employed, so..." 

Brett smiles at him. He doesn't seem to mind Liam rambling - and "rambling" is Liam's default setting when he's nervous, so he's about to do more of it. Brett usually does the talking. Not him - unless it's about music, that is. 

Brett sits there for hours. He barely moves - he plays on his phone for a bit, reads the backs of some records, flips through the music magazines on the front counter. But ultimately, he's quiet, withdrawn. 

Finally, Liam looks at the clock and realises Hayden's going to be coming in to take over soon. "Uh, Brett?" he asks quietly.

Brett looks up. "Yeah?"

"Not trying to kick you out or anything, but my shift's almost over," Liam says. "You can stay if you want. Hayden wouldn't mind." 

Brett shakes his head. "Nah. I can't believe I've been here this long. Did I bother you?"

"No," Liam answers truthfully. "Uh... I owe you a coffee, though. You wanna go get one? If you're not too tired. You seem tired."

"That sounds good," Brett says. 

Liam's not sure what's wrong with him, but he wants to make it better somehow. So when Hayden comes in to take over - looking a little startled to see Brett behind the counter - Liam tells her he'll explain later, with Brett out of earshot, and then takes off.

It's raining outside, cold, but Brett doesn't seem to notice. Liam does - he grumbles about the fact that he's not wearing a hoodie under his jacket as he fumbles with his phone and wallet.

"Where'd you get that coffee a few weeks ago?" Liam asks curiously. "That was good." 

"Just across there." Brett points. "Should be quiet this time." 

As they cross the road, Liam feels his phone go off; guiltily, he realises it's probably Noah. But he's just hanging out - Brett's not a love interest. Not really. Liam's moving on from that. Mason says straight guys will break his heart, so he's steering right away from any romantic feelings he might have for Brett.

Trying to, at least. He's not sure how successful he's going to be.

The coffee shop is quiet when they enter; Brett orders, and Liam follows along with him, stumbling his way through it - he doesn't normally drink coffee - and then pays. He waits for their coffees while Brett grabs a table.

Liam's nervous. Brett's not okay. That much is clear. But it's not like he knows Brett well enough to actually ask what's wrong, even if he'd like to, so he can only hope that being around offers Brett a distraction, at least. 

The barista calls out their order, and Liam grabs the cups, heads over to the tiny little booth table Brett's managed to snag them. 

"So," Brett says, and Liam startles a little - he wasn't expecting Brett to start talking now, considering how quiet he's been all day. "How long've you had that job?"

"The music store?" When Brett nods, Liam chews on his lip for a moment.

"Probably a few weeks before I started college," he says. "My aunt lives nearby. I stayed with her until I could move into my dorm with Mase. Do you work?" 

Brett's getting a little easier to talk to - especially now that Liam knows Brett's not judging him for anything he's saying, at least not openly or obviously. He might be thinking it, but Liam's not getting that impression. 

"Yeah." Brett sips his coffee. "I work as a waiter." 

"Oh, cool. Free food?"

"Nah. My boss is fucking stingy." Brett surveys him for a moment. "First year in your course, right?"

"Mhm. You?" 

"Second. Technically. I switched courses but only some of my classes counted from my first one."

"You switched?" Liam's pretty interested now. "Why? What were you studying before?" 

"I was doing law," Brett says. "It wasn't for me."

"You must be pretty smart if you were doing law," Liam says. 

"How do you figure?" Liam realises, uneasily, that Brett doesn't seem to have liked hearing that part; he tries to backtrack a little, to make it sound more palatable.

"Well I mean it - it's all the technical language, right?" he asks nervously. "You know, and figuring out all the client ethics along the way and stuff. I mean I wasn't just talking about grades. To be in law you've, I dunno, you've gotta have the mindset and stuff, right? And know the language." _Shut up_ , he begs himself silently. _Just stop talking._

Brett smiles, though, and Liam feels a little better. "That's why I switched. I got the grades. I understood the theory. The ethics, too. Didn't have the mindset and wasn't willing to talk to people the way they wanted me to."

Liam nods.

"What about you?" Brett asks curiously. "You must have your first assignment grades back by now." 

Liam nods.

"How'd you go?"

"I did pretty well." Liam doesn't know how else to say it; he doesn't want to brag. "I need to get some chemistry tutoring. I could've done better on my forensics assignment if I'd had some."

"Forensics is pretty heavy stuff, right?" Brett asks.

Liam nods. "First thing I see every Monday morning is, I dunno, it changes, but it's usually blood or bodies or murder scenes. Or all three if I get lucky."

"That stuff doesn't bother you?" Brett asks curiously. 

"Not really." Liam shrugs. "I mean it's sad for the victims, right? And their families. But if you're getting the crime scene photos you know there was a resolution in the case, that someone got charged, otherwise they'd still be in evidence lockup. Criminology is harder."

"Why's that?"

"Because after like two classes you realise how incredibly fucked up everyone is psychologically, get told that criminal recidivism is so high in this country because we lack inmate support programs and rehabilitation for the worst offenders, that our judicial system is so fundamentally fucked it'll take a total overhaul to improve it, and that most of that is due to the lack of education actually available on crime and what's actually considered crime." Liam sips his coffee momentarily - Brett's still watching him - and then keeps going.

"And then they tell you that even though white collar and blue collar crime is actually one of the most prevalent forms of crime, the instigators of it don't get charged because they're feeding money back into the economy, whereas your average gang member, who's doing less harm, can be made an example of, and they're usually black or Latino, and that black and Latino men make up fifty eight percent of the total prison population even though they only make up thirty percent of America's overall population, and-" And Liam's just realised how long he's been talking, so he shuts up, feeling his face flush. "Yeah," he finishes lamely.

"Wow," Brett says, smiling.

"I told you not to get me started," Liam says uncomfortably. "My point is that it's really fucked up and it makes me miserable to think about it. I would rather look at dead bodies and know the perpetrator got brought to justice than think about all the people who get fucked over every day without resolution."

"I'm glad I got you started." Brett leans forward. "So it's totally understandable that it makes you miserable - but why?" 

No one's ever asked Liam that before. "I think it's fucked up that the people who should be brought to justice for screwing people over aren't because of their ethnicity, or race, or social standing, or socioeconomic status," he says heatedly. "And I'm mad they managed to cover it up for so long. But at the same time it sucks to actually know about now, because I know there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Brett stares at him for a moment, smiling. 

"Sorry," Liam mumbles, burying his face in his coffee cup. 

Brett shakes his head. "Don't be. I just haven't met someone who's that passionate about what they're doing in a really long time. Once you're in college long enough, it's like everyone loses that. They just wanna get through and hopefully get a job."

"Why would anyone go to college to get a degree and end up jobless if they could be a criminal and make money?" Liam mutters sourly. "Just ignore me. I'm bitter."

"Don't blame you. Let me guess: you're voting Sanders."

"Damn right I'm voting Sanders."

"Me too," Brett says.

Liam sighs with relief, and Brett laughs. "So there you go," Liam says. "Why not to get me started."

"I was enjoying that. You're smart."

"I'm not smart," Liam mumbles. "I just read the textbook."

"You are," Brett says. "Because yeah, anyone can pull a statistic from a book. But not everyone can look at that statistic and say hey, over fifty percent of our prison population is black or Latino men, but only thirty percent of our overall population is, so there must be something going on there." 

Liam's tempted to continue, but he doesn't, because talking about this stuff always gets him riled up and he sort of wants to calm down now. 

Instead, he takes another sip of his coffee and says, "You wanna get something to eat?" 

~*~

He and Brett leave before three.

Brett says he has things to do, and Liam did promise Noah they'd hang out. Brett still seems sort of down, but better - he's at least smiling and laughing a little as he walks Liam to the bus stop.

"When're you working next?" he asks.

"Tomorrow. Same time." 

"Alright." Brett smiles. "I'll be here. Tomorrow. Same time."

Liam's stomach absolutely does not explode into butterflies when Brett says that. "You don't have to," he says, but he's smiling.

"I want to." 

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Liam says.

"Yeah. Have a good night."

"You too." Liam watches as Brett walks away, then steps on the bus when it arrives. He puts his headphones on and listens to music right up until he enters his dorm.

Mason's still in class, so Liam turns on the coffee machine in the corner and pulls out his guitar. He's only plucked one string when his phone starts to vibrate.

It's Noah - actually calling him instead of texting. Liam reaches for his phone and answers.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey! You still wanna catch up?"

He does, but he also wants to play his guitar. "Sure," he says. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Let's get food," Noah suggests. "Maybe see a movie?"

"Okay," Liam agrees, smiling a little. "Just name the where and when."

~*~

They go to Milano's again, this time for dinner, and then head out to a movie - Deadpool, which Liam's seen before but loves. 

Noah's arm is warm next to his own in the cinema. Liam's not brave enough to hold his hand. He's not brave enough to be that bold or that comfortable, outwardly, with his sexuality yet. If Noah's disappointed, he doesn't say anything - but Liam feels guilty anyway.

"Are you okay to take the bus back?" Noah asks.

"Yeah." Liam's still eating his M&M's; he bought the biggest bag there just so he and Mason could eat them while playing Until Dawn that night. "I'm okay."

"It's kind of late, that's all," Noah says. "And dark." 

"It's okay. I go running around this time anyway." 

"Brave," Noah says, smiling. 

Is it? Liam wonders.

"Listen, um," Noah says. "If you don't wanna catch the bus home, you could always - come back to my place. My parents are cool."

Liam's stomach drops out of his body; he knows, instantly, that he's just not ready for that. That he can't do that. He couldn't even hold Noah's hand in the dark theatre; how's he supposed to go home with him? And he's not dumb. He knows it won't stop there.

"I-" he begins nervously.

"You don't have to," Noah rushes to say. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. Believe me, I get it."

Liam nods. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Don't worry about it," Noah says, smiling. He seems a little disappointed, but not like he's angry or anything. 

Liam nods. 

"Liam, can I kiss you?" Noah asks softly.

Liam nods, almost without meaning to - the streets are dark and no one's around and the bus will be here soon and there's nothing to worry about, so he nods. 

Noah's lips are soft, smooth, salty from the taste of popcorn at the movie theatre. He rests a hand on Liam's hip, gently, and Liam remembers that he's actually here and present and kisses back - a little hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence.

Noah pulls away after a moment, smiling at him. "You taste like chocolate," he says.

Liam holds up his bag of M&M's, and Noah laughs. 

"So, I guess... I'll see you later, then?" Noah asks.

"Mhm." Liam smiles; he did enjoy that, even though he felt kind of hesitant about it. "Yeah."

"Text me when you're home safe."

"You too," Liam says - Noah's got way further than him to go. "Thanks. For going out. It was fun." 

"Yeah, it was."

They're saved from the awkwardness of more conversation when the bus pulls up, and Liam smiles a little more before stepping on. He pulls out his phone.

 **To** : Hayden Romero, 9:34PM  
It went well

She's typing back almost immediately - Hayden seems to be attached to her phone almost permanently, like it's an extension of her body.

 **From** : Hayden Romero, 9:35PM  
Tell. Me. Everything.

~*~

The next day is boring in comparison.

Yesterday feels like it was so long, and yet went so fast - work in the morning, hanging out with Brett, then his date (and kiss) with Noah, and then Until Dawn with Mason. 

When Brett enters the shop, Liam's sort of surprised, because he thought Brett was joking yesterday. Still, he smiles when Brett comes in, finishes bagging up the latest collector's edition of Elvis CD's for the elderly man in front of him, and says, "Have a good day."

"You too, young lad," the guy wheezes as he leaves. Brett holds the door open for him, then strides up to the counter.

"Young lad?" he snickers. "How old does he think you are?"

"I dunno." Liam shrugs. "Hayden says I look about five years younger when I shave. Maybe that's the difference. He's never called me that before."

"Regular customer?" 

"Yeah. Cool old guy. He fought in World War 2."

Brett raises his eyebrows. "You got his life story?"

"I have everyone's life stories," Liam says. "I'm awkward and don't talk so people fill in the silence by telling me everything about themselves." 

Brett laughs. "You aren't that awkward."

"Dude, I'm super awkward," Liam says dryly.

Brett grins. "And baby faced," he says. "You look so different."

Liam mumbles something, blushing. He shaved last night for his date and he knows he looks younger because of it; Mason and Noah both commented on it. "It'll grow back." 

"Don't I know it," Brett sighs, scraping a hand across his own stubble. "Have you guys got any Neck Deep in here?"

Liam perks up. "Yeah. Loads." He heads out to the racks, carrying his stepladder. "Specific bands now, huh? You're moving up in the world."

"Got a recommendation," Brett says, watching Liam unfold his footstool and step onto it. "You know them?"

"Yeah. I play their stuff sometimes." Neck Deep was one of the first bands he made an active effort to try and learn on guitar on his own, outside of his high school music lessons. "Ah..."

He's set up the stepladder in the wrong place. "You okay?" Brett asks, alarmed, as Liam leans over. "Jesus, dude, don't fall." 

"Not gonna fall," Liam says. "Haven't yet." He stops stretching, stumped; he can't quite reach the CD he wants from here. And it's too high up by a few inches; Hayden would probably be able to get it, he thinks, seething. 

"So...?" 

"Damn," Liam mumbles. "Can't reach. Gimme a second."

He's about to climb off his stepladder and move it over when Brett stands on his toes, reaches up, and plucks the CD down.

Liam stares at him, feeling irritation, then disbelief, rising up in him. "Are you joking?" he demands.

"You look so pissed," Brett chuckles.

"No shit!" Liam splutters. "I've been busting my ass climbing up and down this fucking stepladder for weeks now, all because you're the one person left who actually buys something other than the top ten artists, and you could reach the whole time!" 

Brett, damn him, is howling with laughter; Liam climbs down from his stepladder and throws his cleaning rag at Brett before striding back to the counter. "Maybe you should work here," he says huffily.

"Liam," Brett giggles, following him. "Hey. I'm sorry. Come back."

"No," Liam grumbles, even though his mouth is twitching. 

Brett grabs his arm gently, and Liam's surprised when he doesn't even flinch. "Liam," Brett chuckles helplessly. "Hey. I'll buy you a coffee."

"Now I'm listening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam's little rants will all make sense in a few chapters, I promise!


	4. Four - Declamando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GOD THE ANGST.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> <3

**Chapter Four - Declamando**

"Are you going to lie there all day?"

Liam tilts his head upwards; Hayden's standing over him, hands on her hips, looking down at where he's lying on her bed. "I'm going to lie here until you hug me," he mumbles.

"You don't even like hugs." But she kicks off her boots and climbs onto the bed with him, burrowing down into his arms until Liam's nose is filled with the scent of her hair and perfume. "Better?" she asks.

"No," Liam says.

"Is this about Noah?" she asks. "I thought everything went well?"

"It did, I just... I don't know. He's moving too fast. I can't keep up."

"Have you told him that?"

"I tried to," Liam says, flustered. "But I think it's starting to annoy him that I won't come around to his place. Yesterday he texted me saying the house was empty, did I wanna Netflix and chill."

"What'd you say?" Hayden asks.

"I didn't get a chance. I was still thinking about what to say when he called me and asked why I hadn't answered. And that was only five minutes after he'd messaged."

There's a long pause, and then Hayden says slowly, hesitantly, "Tell me if I'm being a bitch, Liam, but he sounds kind of... clingy." 

"Oh God," Liam sighs. "I'm not the only one who thinks that then. I mean I just - I don't know what to do with it. I don't like being - I like being on my own sometimes."

"Everyone does." Hayden wriggles away and sits up; Liam moves to put his head in her lap, and she sighs, saying, "Liam, I'm trying to get ready to go out." But she cards a hand through his hair anyway, and that's how he knows he's welcome to stay. 

"You should talk to him," Hayden says.

"Nope," Liam replies flatly.

"Liam-"

"I don't talk about my feelings."

"I know. It's unhealthy. Just tell him what's going on and how you're feeling and how you aren't ready for that, okay? He's not a mind reader. He can't possibly know what you're thinking. In fact, he might think you don't like him." 

"I'm going out with him," Liam says. "How much more obvious do I have to make it that I do like him?"

Hayden smiles at him as she stands up. "You're sweet," she says.

"And by that, I can tell you mean naive," Liam grumbles. 

Hayden reaches into her closet. "A little. But that's okay. It's kind of refreshing." She throws the shirt right on top of Liam, then goes back to her closet, obviously looking for something else. Liam squints as he lifts the first up to the light.

"The fuck is this?" he asks.

She turns to him. "Clothes, Liam."

"Yeah, I know, but what the fuck is this even supposed to cover?" Liam asks. "This isn't a shirt. It's a strip of cloth masquerading as a shirt. It's meant to be less than fifty out tonight, Hayds. This isn't gonna keep you warm."

"No, but it'll make me look good," she says.

"You look good anyway," Liam says. "You don't have to freeze to death to look good." 

Her smile is kind of vulnerable when she looks at him. "Thanks, Li," she says quietly, ruffling his hair up. Then, after a moment - during which she's open and clearly confused and readable like a book - she sighs, grabs the shirt off him, and says, "I'm still gonna wear it, though." 

"Fine," Liam huffs, stripping off his long-sleeved crewneck. "If you're gonna insist on wearing your tiny not-shirt on a winter night, at least take this with you. You know, for when you inevitably go hypothermic and need something that actually resembles clothing."

She laughs, smiling, and takes the crewneck. "Thanks, Liam," she says. "You're a good friend." 

Liam shrugs as he takes off his shoes and crawls completely into Hayden's bed, pulling her duvet up. "You've been listening to me bitch about dating for the last hour," he says. "Least I can do."

She shrugs. "You could always let the girls in my hall see you in my bed so they'd stop thinking I was flirting with their boyfriends," she says.

"Sure, open the door," Liam says. "I'll take my shirt off. You'll be the only chick who's managed to get me into bed."

"And you climbed in there all by yourself," Hayden teases.

They laugh for a bit about that as Hayden gets changed, not seeming to mind that Liam's in the room. He looks away, even though he's seen her naked before - when they were dating. Hayden's the only person he's ever let that close to him, with Mason tying a close second. He's just not that great with physical contact. He's not touchy-feely, even when he does crave it, because he doesn't know how to ask for it.

"Such a gentleman," Hayden says, and Liam turns around when her t-shirt lands on him.

"The not-shirt covers more than I thought it would," Liam comments. Hayden giggles. 

"You look good," Liam admits. "Just don't freeze to death. And if something happens, call me. I'll come get you."

"It'll be fine, Liam," she says. "But thanks." 

~*~

It's not fine, of course.

Hayden calls him at almost midnight, sounding shaken and asking him, timidly, "Can you - how fast can you be here?"

Liam's already halfway out the door. "What happened?"

"Just guys being dicks. A bunch of us are leaving."

"Are you safe?" he asks. "And, uh, what's the address?"

"I'm okay. A few girls are still here. I'll send you a pindrop." There's a pause. "Thanks, Liam."

"No problem."

Lucky for him - or for them, he's not sure which - the place is barely a half mile's walk away. Sure enough, when he gets there, a group of girls are standing outside, towering over him in heels that must be at least six inches off the ground, tiny skirts and bare arms.

He spots Hayden - she's only wearing five inch heels (and is much taller than him as a consequence) and has his crewneck on.

He approaches slowly, not wanting to startle them. "Hey," he says quietly.

At least half of them jump, then relax when they see it's Liam - a lot of them are from Hayden's soccer team, he realises, and they seem to recognise him. "Hi, Liam," she says, stepping forward to greet him. Her hug is tighter than usual; she's shivering.

"What's going on in there?" he asks, craning his neck to look at the house. As he does, there's a roar inside - what sounds like at least four people yelling in rage - and a chair comes flying out of the window.

"Jesus Christ," Liam says, startled. "What the fuck?"

"They're using ice," one of Hayden's friends says. "A whole bunch of them."

Liam glares up at the house. Ice is probably the most fucked up drug on the market, not to mention it's readily available to stupid kids wanting to get high. "What happened?"

"They started a brawl. Started yelling and trying to get us involved." 

"Does everyone else have a way home?" Liam asks. "I can do rounds."

That elicits a few giggles, but all of them say someone's already coming for them. Still, he doesn't wanna leave with the party like this - one of the girls says she's already called the police - so he and Hayden wait until everyone's been picked up before they leave.

Hayden's quiet. Liam takes off his extra hoodie and hands it to her.

"Thanks." Her lower lip wobbles as she pulls it on.

"So what happened?" he asks hesitantly.

She shakes her head. "You know Matt?"

"Yeah. You talk about him every day. Every day." 

She shrugs. "He was there. We've sort of been hooking up and I thought we were... I dunno. Together or something. I guess not though, because I walked in on him eating some other girl out."

Liam winces. "I'm sorry, Hayds," he says. She really liked that guy, too. "I didn't know you'd been..."

"I didn't want to tell you or Mason," she says. "I didn't want you to break his neck."

"I'm still gonna," he says flippantly, and she laughs wetly. "Especially now." She doesn't seem to be laughing anymore. "You know, I'm the last person who should be saying this, but someone will come along. I get it, he's a douche. But you found out now and not months from now." 

"I'm beginning to think someone doesn't exist," she sniffles. Liam's heart is up in his throat, clenched; he hardly ever sees Hayden cry. And he hates it, because he never knows what to say or do to make it better.

"Hayden-"

"The only good guys I know are you and Mason," Hayden sniffs, "and you're both gay!"

"I, uh - sorry?" Liam asks.

He's not expecting Hayden to burst into tears upon his apology. "I really am," he tries again.

"I don't want to be another person you apologise to," she says. "There's nothing wrong with you, Liam."

"There's plenty of things wrong with me," he says. "I can't talk to people, I'm awkward, can't make up my mind about whether I'm in the closet or not, severe trust issues, I.E.D, I bounce my legs when I'm nervous, which is most of the time, and I have crazy cowlicks at the back of my head."

Hayden offers him a watery laugh, and Liam smiles a little. "Piggyback?"

Hayden nods and jumps onto his back; she weighs less than what Liam squats at the moment, so he feels okay carrying her. "You know," he says, "if it means anything - if I was straight, you'd be the first girl I'd ask out."

She squeezes him gently. "It means everything, Li."

"I mean," Liam says. "I'm gay, and you were still the first person I asked out."

She laughs again, and Liam feels a deep sense of satisfaction; he's doing his job and making her laugh and getting her home safe. "Why'd you have to wear those heels, anyway?" he asks. "As if I wasn't short enough already-"

"You aren't that short. You're average."

"Yeah. Average for a girl," Liam points out. 

"Noah thinks you're cute."

"Noah thinks the sun shines out of my ass," Liam says dryly, and Hayden giggles a little. "You wanna play Until Dawn with me and Mase?"

"Isn't that your bro thing?"

"You're my bro."

"Uh... thanks?"

"Prettiest bro ever." 

"Isn't that you?" 

Liam wrinkles his nose. "I'm not pretty," he grumbles.

"You kind of are. You've got so many cute guys hanging off you you're putting the rest of us to shame. You should really take advantage of that."

"One day," Liam says. "My dorm or yours?" 

"Yours." 

"Ugh, stairs," Liam groans as he starts up them. "I'm getting another workout today."

"Am I that heavy?"

"No. You're lighter than what I squat." 

"I'm flattered." 

He puts her down at the top of the stairs - nobody else seems to be awake in their hall - and unlocks the door. Mason's typing on his laptop with one hand, reading a book with the other. Liam's always been envious of his ability to multitask.

"Yo," he says.

"Hey," Mason says. "Oh, hey, Hayden. You look nice."

"Thanks, Mason," she sighs, sitting down on Liam's bed and kicking her heels off. "How come the only compliments I can get are from two gay guys and my roommate?"

"You're so pretty everyone else is intimidated by you," Mason says. 

Hayden rolls her eyes. "Oh, God. If only that were true." 

Liam throws Hayden a bag of M&M's. "Here. Eat your feelings." 

"That doesn't work." But she smiles when Liam slumps next to her and switches the PlayStation on, grumbling about how slow it is.

"It does for me," Liam says.

"Sure it does, Liam," Mason says absently.

"Huh?" He's missed whatever Mason was inferring, but Hayden hasn't - she's smiling and laughing again. Her eyeliner is smeared, but Liam still thinks she's pretty. Then again, Mason says he doesn't think like a regular human.

Hayden eats some M&M's and, eventually, sighs. "I should go," she says.

"You can stay," Mason offers. "The R.A is cool. He won't say anything if you do." 

"Where do I sleep?" she asks skeptically.

"Liam can take the floor," Mason says casually, and Liam flings a pillow at him. "We can bunk together. Or you can share with one of us." 

"We can figure it out," Liam says. "Mason can sleep on the floor."

"How chivalrous of you both to volunteer each other," Hayden says. "Is there a bathroom here?"

"Yup. I gotta brush my teeth anyway," Liam says. "Follow me."

"Don't follow him," Mason says. "It's a trap. He get pathetically lost no matter where he goes."

"Fuck you," Liam laughs, shoving Mason off his desk chair. 

When he and Hayden reach the bathroom, it's empty; soon after they get there, one of the other guys in the hall walks in. Liam recognises him - Josh, who seems kind of unsure of himself, but pretty harmless.

"Hey, man," he says.

Josh looks at them both, standing indecisively in the doorway. "Should I go?"

Liam blinks. "Why?" 

"Just brushing our teeth," Hayden says quickly. She's gone faintly red. "Thanks, though. For... being considerate?"

Josh nods slowly, says goodnight, and then exits. Hayden sighs.

"He thought we were having sex."

"You think he's cute," Liam says.

"I - okay. Yeah. You don't?"

"Not my type." Liam rinses his mouth. "Let's go." 

Hayden opts to sleep in the same bed as him. Liam doesn't mind - he likes being close to people, as long as he knows them and knows exactly what "close" entails. By the time they get back, Mason's already asleep.

"Last time we were this close, we were making out," Liam whispers to Hayden.

She laughs a little. "Yeah."

There's a long silence; Liam's dozing off with his arm draped over Hayden's waist when she shifts against him and says softly, "Liam, how far have you gone with Noah?"

Liam swallows, bunching his borrowed crewneck up at her hip. "You can probably guess that."

"Do you like him?" she asks softly. "Or are you just... going along with everything he suggests?" 

"Not everything. Most things." 

She rises up onto her arm and looks down at him. "Don't do anything you don't want to just because he does," she says quietly. "Alright?" 

"I won't," Liam promises. 

Hayden lies down again. "Thanks for tonight, Liam," she says softly.

"Anytime," he replies drowsily.

~*~

Hayden's advice comes in useful within a week.

He doesn't think Noah really means to pressure him. He thinks Noah likes him a lot - maybe more than the time period they've known each other warrants - and that he's just overeager. Still, Noah being overeager is how Liam ends up with his back pressed against his dorm room door, unsure of how to get himself out of this situation.

He was enjoying the kissing right up until he found himself pinned, and Noah's hands are trying to creep lower even as Liam bats them away.

He finally manages to pull away. "I um," he says. "I don't really..." 

He doesn't miss the flash of frustration in Noah's eyes. "You don't what?" he asks.

Don't want to keep going with this. "I don't wanna do that right now," Liam says quietly. "Not yet." 

"Am I doing something wrong?" Noah asks. 

"I - no," Liam says, flustered. "It's not you, it's me." Then, realising what he's said, "Fuck, I can't believe that just came out of my mouth."

He doesn't know what would've happened without Hayden's advice ringing true in his head. He just doesn't like feeling trapped, and being pinned against the door wasn't doing anything good for his blood pressure.

Still, after that, Noah backs off - hangs around for a few more hours, and then leaves. Liam wonders if there's something wrong with him - most guys would be happy to go that fast, he thinks moodily. Not me, though.

Still. He has work and no time to really think about anything else, so he puts it out of his mind, grabs his guitar, and heads out the door.

~*~

Liam's pretty cranky by the time he's halfway into his shift.

His boss is getting in new shelving units, ones that have to be hooked to the wall, and he's getting Liam to build them in the morning when it's quiet. Still, Liam has to stand on his stupid stepladder to nail them into place at the top - they sit on the ground, but they're so tall it'd be dangerous to just leave them that way, and even Liam's boss doesn't want to deal with a lawsuit.

Liam's not exactly sure he's qualified to be doing this, but he's getting paid extra, so he doesn't mind too much. He's got the first half of the second shelf built anyway - just has to lift up the second half and the nail it in place.

He's hardly surprised when the door bell rings just as he's managed to heave it up there, and he turns to see Garrett walking in.

His irritation rises. Garrett's been turning up here even though Liam's done everything he can to dissuade it. And he wouldn't care if Garrett just chatted to him, he's not opposed to people liking him or anything. It's just that Garrett's, well, pretty self-absorbed. And seems to be able to get in Liam's way with very little effort. 

"What're you doing?" Garrett asks.

Liam - with a hammer in his hand, nails in his mouth and the shelf leaned, half-built, against the wall, wonders snarkily whether Garrett's ever had to work for anything in his life. The moment Liam was old enough his mom was getting him to help out around the house. He enjoyed it for the most part, but he's all too familiar with the crushing blow to his thumb, courtesy of a misaimed hammer.

He takes the nails out of his mouth. Probably not the safest thing to have them there. "Building a shelf," he says, even though he thinks that sort of speaks for itself. "Need anything?"

Garrett shrugs. "Waiting for the bus. Thought I'd kill time."

"The bus stop is on the other side of the street," Liam points out. "Wait in here and you'll probably miss it."

"I've got time," Garrett says, smiling up at him. "Did you check out my brother's band yet?"

"Not yet," Liam says. "Not much time. Studying. Gym. Work."

"You have time for fun?"

"Nope," Liam says, and even though he doesn't mean it as a joke - he means not for Garrett, for fuck's sake - Garrett laughs. "Can I help you find something?"

"Nah, I'm good. I know where it is."

Liam desperately tries to stop his face from crunching in irritation; that's another thing. Garrett literally never fucking buys anything.

The shop door opens, and Brett walks in. He smiles wanly at Liam, sees Garrett, rolls his eyes, and heads over to a different part of the store, evidently waiting for Liam to somehow shoo the guy away.

Liam hides his smile. Brett's turned up to at least fifty percent of Liam's shifts. It's a nice surprise whenever he comes in; he hasn't told Brett when he's working, but he works almost the same hours every week, so Brett must have his routine down or something. Liam doesn't mind.

"So," Garrett says. "I was wondering if-"

Liam sees it almost in slow motion - Garrett reaches up, leans his full body weight on his hand, against the top part of the shelf - which isn't nailed in place yet. He opens his mouth, but the next thing he knows he's landed with a sickeningly loud thud on the ground, head throbbing, his ears ringing with the impact of his skull against the shelf behind him. 

"Oh, shit," Garrett breathes. "Oh, God, I-" 

"What the fuck did you do?" Brett's voice asks, and then he's appearing in Liam's vision, hauling the shelf off him. 

"Ow," Liam says faintly.

"Yeah, ow," Brett says, looking worried. "You okay? Can you sit up?"

"Yeah," Liam says dazedly, accepting Brett's hand to lever himself into a sitting position. "Ow."

"No kidding." Brett looks pretty shaken. "Are you sure you okay?"

"Hard head," Liam says faintly, tapping it with his knuckles. "I think so." 

"Sorry," Garrett whispers. 

Brett ignores him - Liam barely flicks his eyes up before Brett's saying to him, "You think you can stand up?"

"I, uh, yeah," Liam says, stumbling embarrassingly through the words. He's not entirely sure that he's telling the truth - Brett kneeling in front of him is doing all sorts of really fucked up things to his brain, which is already feeling pretty scrambled from the fall.

Brett stands up and leans down, offering both hands to Liam. Liam takes them - this time he's not as stunned, so he can appreciate how callused and rough and strong they are - and gets to his feet.

His vision tilts. "Oh, fuck," he mumbles, swaying. "Okay, maybe my head's not as hard as I thought it was." He's grateful when Brett's hands are on his biceps, suddenly, steadying him. Brett's hands are fiercely warm, and Liam doesn't think he's ever liked someone touching him this much.

"Yo, I'm really sorry," Garrett says frantically. 

"Liam?!"

Liam turns, wobbling a little. Hayden's just come in for her shift, and she's staring, slack jawed, at the mess.

"Hey, Hayds," he says.

"What the hell happened?" she demands. "Are you okay?" 

"Fine." He ignores the way she puts a hand on his arm, concerned. "The shelf fell."

"It didn't fall," Brett says pointedly. "This guy knocked it over. Fell right on top of him. Lucky it was empty I guess."

Hayden rounds on Garrett. "You knocked a shelf over on him?" she yells. 

"Uh-"

"Hayden, I'm fine," Liam pleads.

"You can't even stand straight!" she snaps. "You need to go home. I'll call Jo, she can probably replace you. And you," she says, rounding on Garrett, "are going to stay here and clean up the mess you made because I am not dealing with it." 

Garrett opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it, seeing her mutinous expression.

"Go get your stuff, Li," she says. "Go home and sleep it off or something."

"You sure?" Liam asks. "I can hang around until Jo gets here." 

"I'm positive." She waves him off. "Get something to eat on your way." 

"Okay." He smiles a little. "Thanks." 

With that, he makes his way to the tea room to collect his backpack and guitar. The guitar's pretty heavy, especially considering he just hit his head, but at least he only has to walk across the road to the bus stop before he can put it down.

When he exits, Brett's standing near the counter. "I like your friend," he chuckles.

"Hayden? Yeah, she's cool." Liam gestures at the shelf awkwardly. "Thanks, for, um-"

"No problem," Brett says. "So, Hayden told you to get something to eat?"

"Mhm. I'll probably just wait till I'm home. If I leave now I don't have to share the bus with all the school kids." 

Brett smiles, tips his head. "You want a lift?" he asks.

Liam blinks. "A-"

"A ride. Yeah. My car's out the back." 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Liam asks hesitantly.

"Nope." Brett smiles again. "Clear schedule all day today." 

Well... Brett did help him back there, and Liam's been enjoying the conversations they've been having, so... "Okay," he says meekly. "That'd be good, actually." 

Brett's grin widens, almost like Liam's answer makes him happy. "Okay. Cool. Well, let's go. You like Japanese?"

"I like everything," Liam says. "Why?"

"We're getting Japanese. To takeaway, if you want, if your head's hurting pretty bad." 

Liam rubs it. "It isn't that bad," he lies - it's throbbing, and he knows he'll probably crawl to Mason pathetically when he gets home and beg for some of his Tylenol stash. "We can sit and eat. If you're not busy," he adds hurriedly.

Brett smiles widely. "I'm not. Told you that. Come on." 

~*~

The Japanese place is so authentically Japanese that none of the menu is in English, and none of the workers there speak it. The menu comes with pictures, though, and Liam stares at it helplessly. His head still hurts, and he's having trouble concentrating on anything with the throb behind his eyes.

Brett smiles at him. "Can't read it?"

Liam ducks his head. "I'm looking at the pictures," he mumbles, and Brett laughs. "I don't recognise most of the menu."

"What're you looking at?" Brett asks. 

Liam points. 

Brett nods. "Wagyu beef curry," he says. "That's pretty good."

"You can read that?" Liam asks.

Brett smiles, and then he says something that's not English. Behind the counter, the owner of the shop laughs and claps.

"Um," Liam says helplessly.

"Sorry," Brett chuckles. "I said "you bet" in Japanese. My godmother taught me." 

"Oh," Liam says, smiling faintly.

"The wagyu beef curry is good," Brett says. "I'd go for it. Not too spicy, either."

"I don't mind spicy," Liam says. "But okay. Uh - you order." 

When the waitress comes over to take their order, Brett has a full-blown conversation with her in Japanese. Liam watches him talk, noting the way Brett's eyes light up when he laughs or smiles, and tries not to make it obvious that he feels pretty out of his depth.

Eventually, Brett turns back to him, still beaming. "The waitress thinks you're cute," he says.

"What?" Liam blushes. "She told you that?"

"Pretty much. Something about how sad you looked trying to work the menu out." Brett pours a glass of water and pushes it towards Liam. "You should probably drink something, considering how hard you hit your head."

Liam takes the glass and drinks, managing to catch one of the ice cubes in his mouth. He crushes it to pieces within the next two seconds, and Brett stares at him.

"Sorry," Liam whispers.

Brett smiles. "Chew ice all you want. At least you're not smoking it, right?" 

"I wouldn't even know how," Liam admits. 

"Nothing wrong with that," Brett says. "You're better off not knowing. Stay away from it."

"I was planning to." Liam pauses to crunch another ice cube, seeing as Brett doesn't seem to mind too much. "You know. With what I study and all." 

"Oh yeah." Brett smiles. "I don't have to worry, then." 

There's a long silence. Liam drinks some more water, begging his headache to let up for a bit so he can act like a normal person.

"So, you know Garrett's flirting with you, right?" Brett asks.

"Huh?" Liam starts going red. "No he isn't."

Brett arches one stupidly perfect eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"He just - he's just kind of weird," Liam mumbles. "He isn't flirting. He wants to get into the music scene but doesn't know what his vibe is."

"His vibe?" Brett asks incredulously. 

"His words, not mine."

"Ah, now it makes more sense." Brett shakes his head. "He likes you. I saw him slip you that note the other day."

"It was just his brother's band name on it," Liam says, shrugging. "He said to check them out."

"Did you read it?"

"No, not yet."

Brett nods at Liam's jeans. "I dare you."

Liam reaches into them - they're the same pair he had on the first time he met Garrett - and pulls out the note.

Barber Shop Bashers on YouTube. ;) 

And then, underneath, Garrett's name and a phone number. Liam blinks down at the note, then looks up at Brett. Could Brett be right about that?

Then he remembers. "Oh," he says, smiling. "Yeah, he told me to tell him what I thought. That's why he gave me his number."

Brett stares at him for a long moment. Then, "Now I know why Mason and Hayden rotate around you like satellites."

"What? No they - why?" Liam demands, flustered.

Brett laughs. "Nothing," he says fondly. "Here's our food."

~*~

The Japanese food is so good Liam makes a mental note of where the place is. And, okay, he takes a photo of the front of the store, too. 

Brett drives him back to the dorms; Liam's headache is still pretty bad, and he's torn between inviting Brett up and crawling into bed with a couple of Tylenol and a few episodes of Firefly. Brett makes the decision for him.

"You should get some sleep," he says. "Knocked your head pretty hard."

Liam rubs it. "It's okay," he lies. "Thanks for driving me back."

"Need any help with your stuff?"

Liam shakes his head. "I'll manage." He hops out of the car and gets his things from the boot, then leans down at the passenger side window, smiling. "Thanks, Brett."

"No problem," Brett says, his mouth curved upward. "See you later."

"Bye," Liam says, heading upstairs. 

When he opens his dorm room door, Mason's inside already, tapping frantically at his laptop. He whips around when Liam enters.

"You're alive!"

"... Yeah...?"

"Hayden said you hit your head," Mason says frantically. "That you fell off a ladder or something? Are you okay?"

"Does Hayden ever not update you about my every movement?" Liam grumbles as he puts his guitar down. "I'm okay. Head hurts pretty bad. You got any Tylenol?"

"Bathroom," Mason says. "Dude, you might have a concussion."

"I'll go to the ER if it gets worse," Liam yawns boredly, slumping down on his bed and kicking his shoes off. "What're you doing?"

"Dude, I think I found what I wanna write my paper on." Before Liam can process, Mason's picked up the laptop and is sitting down on Liam's bed, almost on top of him. "Check it out. The placebo effect when ancient spells and runes are used in healing practices."

"The - okay," Liam says, catching up. "That sounds cool."

"You figured out yours yet?"

"How a serial killer or murderer might go undetected through the use of forensic science," Liam says. "Or I'll pump out some bullshit about blood splatter patterns and modus operandi efficacy."

"You ever wonder, Liam, if a killer might one day read your paper and get smarter for it?" 

"I sure as shit hope not." 

Mason laughs, then says, "Hey, where were you? Hayden texted me hours ago about your head."

"I was with Brett," Liam mumbles reluctantly.

Mason sits up straighter. "With Brett?"

"Yeah. He um, he was there when it happened. We got something to eat. Japanese. And then he drove me back here."

Mason's eyes are gleaming. "He took you out for lunch?"

"He didn't take me out," Liam says irritably. "I took myself out. With his help. We split the bill. It was Japanese."

"You said that already."

"And he drove me back because he's a good person." 

"Uh huh."

"There's nothing going on!"

"I don't believe you. If something was going on, you would be the last person to know about it." 

"I would not. Why does everyone think I'm dumb?"

"You aren't dumb. You were on the honour roll at school. Academically you're brilliant. Emotionally, you have the intelligence of a wooden post."

Liam pouts at Mason, but he has to agree there, really. After all, Mason's not the only person to have said it, and not everyone can be wrong.

"It's okay," Mason says. "You'll grow from a wooden post into a beautiful tall tree."

"Or a short shrub," Liam says moodily.

"Well..."

Liam hits him with a pillow.

~*~

The next day is hell.

He thanks God it's quiet. He turns the music down in the store and leaves his guitar at home, sits behind the counter and does the bare minimum of work. His head in absolutely killing him - there's a bruise on his forehead where he hit the shelf.

"You look like you need some TLC."

Liam looks up. Brett's standing at the counter, head tilted with concern. "Hey," Liam says tiredly. 

Brett's eyebrows furrow. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," Liam says, even though he knows it lacks conviction.

"Sure. You look a little green." Brett leans on the counter. "Headache, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." 

"I'd believe it," Brett says. "Lacrosse injuries suck."

"You play lacrosse?" Liam asks, perking up a bit.

"Yeah. Have for years now. You?"

"Uh - no," Liam says quickly. He's not exactly lying; he doesn't play lacrosse anymore. Not after several instances of losing his fucking shit on the field and getting carded, which only served to make him angrier. Now, his Risperdal leaves him too tired anyway. 

"You should come to a game sometime," Brett says. "They're pretty good. Fun. Lots of drinking."

Liam smiles a little. "Maybe I will."

There's a slightly awkward silence; Liam's feeling too shitty to try and fill it with any of his usual nervous chatter. Brett shifts, then says, "I got through all those albums you recommended."

"Already?" Liam asks. "Dude, you must've bought like... at least fifteen over the last month."

Brett shrugs. "I like music." 

"You like anything besides rock?" Liam asks curiously.

Brett nods. "I like acoustic stuff," he says. "You know, like... Boyce Avenue?"

"I've heard of 'em." He doesn't listen to them much, but they do pretty awesome covers. "If you like acoustics, you should check out Pvris. They do rock stuff as well, but they have some really good acoustic songs - uh, Waking Up is a good one." 

"Liam," Brett says, and Liam blinks.

Brett smiles a little. "I didn't come to see you as a customer," he says. "I came to see you as a friend. Check that you were okay after hitting your head." 

"Oh." Liam tries to smile, but he thinks it comes out as a grimace. "My head hurts."

"Did you go to the E.R?" Brett asks, concerned.

"No." Liam shakes his head, instantly regretting the action and burying it in his hands. "Ow." 

"You probably have a concussion." Liam hears a rattling noise as Brett puts a bottle on the counter, underneath his face. "Here. These help me whenever I'm concussed."

"You say that like it happens a lot," Liam says, reading the back. He's not a newbie; some medications interact violently and badly with his Risperdal, and he's slowly learned what to look for in ingredient lists. 

"You allergic?" Brett asks, watching him.

Liam doesn't want to lie. He also doesn't want to explain why he's reading the ingredients list; he decides to go with honesty. "No," he admits, then knocks two back. "Thanks. You just carry pain pills around? That's crazy prepared."

"No," Brett says. "I brought them for you."

Liam blinks, looks up to find Brett staring at him like he's trying to tell him something. But Liam's frustratingly awful at reading between the lines, and also really bad at telling people that, so all he can do is open his mouth and say, "Um-" 

"Liam!" 

He looks up, startled to see Noah walking in. "Hey," he says.

"Hi. How's your head?"

"Better," Liam lies. Brett's watching him curiously, but there's something closed off about his expression. It makes Liam uneasy; Brett hasn't looked that way with him ever.

Noah comes right up to the counter, stands closer to him than what a friend would, and Liam realises, almost instantly, what's going on. He might be pretty bad at reading between lines and identifying flirting, but he knows this - Noah's making sure Brett knows that Liam's off the market.

And Liam's uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and he knows he's going red, looking down and away and for an escape. Brett's watching them both closely.   
"Brought you some Tylenol," Noah says, putting the blister pack on the table.

And fuck him, Liam feels guilty. Guilty that he's embarrassed and scared, guilty that Noah came all this way just to bring him pain pills he can't even take because he just took some. "Thanks," he says weakly. "I'll take some when I have lunch." 

Brett still hasn't left, but he hasn't said anything, either. Liam tries to meet his eyes and fails abysmally. 

"Okay," Noah says slowly. "Well... have a good day." 

Liam turns to say something, and Noah catches his lips in a quick kiss.

Liam's stomach drops; Noah's already pulled away, but Brett stands up straight and - he looks pissed. Angry. Almost disgusted.

"Bye," he says shortly, then leaves. 

Liam wants to call out. To say something. But he can't think of anything and he doesn't know where he'd pluck up the courage anyway.

"What was that about?" Noah asks.

~*~

**From** : Noah DeMarco, 1:10PM  
You haven't texted back all day :(

Liam's back from work, in his dorm, pacing. Mason's not here, or he'd be asking him for advice on how to answer Noah's text before he does something stupid.

But - fuck that. Fuck being gentle. Liam's been twisted up in knots ever since Brett left the store, and his expression is seared into Liam's mind. The disappointment, the anger. I didn't think he'd be like that. But he is. Fuck.

Fingers shaking, Liam texts Noah back.

**To** : Noah DeMarco, 1:12PM  
That wasn't okay.

With that, he throws his phone on his bed, completely unsurprised when it starts to ring. He's too fucking angry to have a conversation like this, though, so he lets it ring out.

Eventually, he settles enough to answer one of Noah's many, many texts, and as soon as he does, Noah's calling again. This time, he does pick up, even though his heart's beating almost out of his chest.

"What wasn't okay?" Noah asks.

Liam grits his teeth. "What you did at work," he says, trying to keep his tone neutral and calm. "I told you I'm not - I'm not good with public affection and I'm definitely not good with being kissed in front of other people. He was a customer. " 

"He was basically hanging off you," Noah says, a whine in his voice. Liam chooses not to comment that there was a significantly large counter between them. "And - and besides, you can't be like that forever."

"You can't push me into not being like that," Liam snaps. "I've been like that, whatever the fuck that means, for most of my life. You don't get to decide whether or not it's okay." 

There's a long pause on the other end.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Noah asks.

"No!" Liam exclaims. "I've told you I'm not and I wasn't lying. I'm fucking scared, okay? I've only been out for, I dunno, maybe two months, it's completely new to me, and I'm scared!" 

"Being scared is letting them win," Noah says.

"Being scared isn't a fucking choice for me. It's how I am," Liam says bitterly, and he hangs up. 

He paces for a while. He's still kind of shaking and his phone is going haywire; he switches it off, running a hand through his hair, wishes Mason was here to talk him down. He isn't, though, he's at class, so-

Liam grabs his things, swings a jacket on, and storms out of his dorm room, heading across campus for Hayden's. 

The door's shut, but he knocks anyway, hoping that Sydney doesn't answer and that Hayden's there. He needs somewhere to unwind, at the very least. 

The door opens; Hayden's in a towel, her hair piled up on her head. "Liam?" she asks.

"I'm a completely dysfunctional human being," Liam says miserably. "I'm sorry. Can I come in?"

She stands back to let him in, and Liam toes off his shoes, takes his jacket off, and then slumps onto her bed. 

"Okay," Hayden says hesitantly. "Can you give me like, two seconds to put clothes on?"

Liam nods, burying his face in her pillow. He hears her rustling around, and eventually opens his eyes when she settles on the bed next to him. Her legs are smooth when he puts his head on her lap, and she smells nice.

"So?" she asks quietly.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Start anywhere. We'll work it out together."

So Liam tells her everything, ending with the phone call. She looks more and more upset as he continues, and when he finally finishes, she says, "You know that's not okay, right? How he acted? It shows he doesn't respect the boundaries you set."

"I know, I just - am I overreacting?"

"No," she says. "I'd be pissed too if I told my boyfriend or whatever that I was scared of something and he went and did that exact thing, then told me not to be scared like it's a choice. I'm sorry, Liam."

Liam shrugs.

"Has he apologised?"

"Wouldn't know. Turned my phone off."

She slides it out of his pocket, using her other hand to scratch lightly at his scalp, and switches it on. After a moment, she says, "Wow."

"What?"

"He's tried calling you about eight times."

Liam moans and buries his face deeper into her lap. 

"The first time I ever got a guy to moan between my legs, I really didn't think this would be how it went," Hayden sighs. "You should call him."

"Why?"

"So you can talk."

"I don't wanna talk."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you've just got to do things you don't want to do." 

"Like deal with things as an adult and resist throwing a tantrum?"

"Exactly."

Liam sighs, rolls onto his back, and calls Noah, who answers immediately.

"Liam, I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," Liam says quietly. 

There's a long pause; Liam closes his eyes. "Noah," he says, "I don't... I don't think... whatever it is you want, I don't think I can be that."

"I know," Noah says. "I shouldn't have pushed it."

Liam fidgets with Hayden's duvet. "Yeah."

"So," Noah says. "I'm guessing that's that?"

"Is that okay?" Liam asks. Hayden's jaw drops. Liam stares up into her soft brown eyes and tethers himself to her, knowing she's safe. 

"I get it," Noah says. "I totally do. I'll see you around, okay? No hard feelings. And I'm sorry. Again." 

"Thanks," Liam says softly. "Yeah. See you."

He barely hears Noah say bye back before he hangs up, then flings his phone onto the floor. Hayden barely flinches - she's been present for some of his less than pleasant I.E.D episodes and knows that this is nowhere close to the extent of Liam's anger - and instead leans down to kiss his forehead gently.

"I'm sorry, Li."

Liam shrugs. "I'm eighteen. Someone will come along." 

"Maybe Brett," she says.

Liam closes his eyes, swallowing. "Not Brett," he says. "You should've seen the look on his face when Noah kissed me. He thought it was disgusting. So I guess that answers that question."

"Are you sure it was disgust?" Hayden asks hesitantly. "He seemed pretty worried when you hit your head..." 

"Probably worried I'd bleed on him," Liam mumbles.

There's a moment of silence; Liam looks up to see Hayden's eyes welled up with tears. "Sorry," he says. "I know I'm miserable company."

She shakes her head, swallows, and wipes her eyes. "I just wish you didn't - I wish..."

She doesn't finish. Liam reaches up to push her hair back behind her ear. "I know," he says. "Thanks." 

Hayden nods, then reaches over to her nightstand and produces the biggest bag of Hershey's Kisses he's ever seen. "What the fuck?" he asks.

"What?"

"How're you so skinny?"

She unwraps one and feeds it to him, ignores what he says to sigh and say, "Chocolate makes everything better. I mean I never thought I'd be feeding it to you while you wallow in misery, but... here we are." 

"I always thought I'd be the one giving you chocolate," Liam says.

"That's mean!"

"That's me pointing out the fact that I never even considered that I might find someone crazy enough to be with me," Liam says dryly. "And that you'd inevitably find someone not good enough for you who I'd then have to violently maim."

She smiles. 

~*~

He watches TV with Hayden for a little while before getting his shit together and leaving - there's only so many times he can assure Hayden that yes, her favourite candidate on the Bachelor absolutely will win.

"Not seeing Noah anymore," is how he greets Mason when he enters. 

"What?" Mason asks.

"Not seeing Noah anymore," Liam repeats.

"I got that part. What happened?"

Liam tells him everything - in less detail than he would Hayden. Hayden's pretty detail-oriented, but Mason just likes to know what happened.

"Man," Mason murmurs. "That's... wow. And Brett saw?"

Liam's stomach sinks into his feet, through the floor, and down into the gym on the first level. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Brett saw."

"How did he...?"

"He looked so pissed," Liam says unhappily. "Like I'd disappointed him or something."

"Really?" Mason asks skeptically.

"Yeah. Probably won't be seeing him again."

"Somehow I doubt that," Mason says. "But c'mon. We'll play some PlayStation and you'll feel better."

The PlayStation only works as a distraction while it's on, though, and once Mason's sleeping beside him, everything comes back to the surface - how embarrassed and uncomfortable he felt, the way Brett's eyes burned into him as he said his brusque goodbye and left the shop.

Liam swallows, closes his eyes against the sting, and tells himself it'll all be better in the morning.


	5. Five - Abandon Or Avec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi guys author purgatory sucks so I'm gonna try and be better about this  
> But life has been kicking my ass lately so we'll see how that goes  
> Thanks to everyone who's showing support! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3

**Chapter Five - Abandon Or Avec**

It's ten thirty, he's got a seminar first thing in the morning and he's standing in a crowded frat house, watching the room nervously.

He's holding a beer but hasn't even taken a swig. Alcohol interacts pretty badly with his Risperdal and he's not willing a repeat of his first week - during which he had three beers, got shitfaced, spent the night vomiting in the bathroom with people coming in and out, and spent the next morning feeling so shivery and weak he was thoroughly convinced death was coming for him.

He's not even sure why he's here. Some friends from his biology class invited him, telling him it was a "small get together". There must be two hundred people here, and Liam's not sure what their definition of small is... but it clearly isn't the same as his, which numbers in double-digits.

So here he is. The only sober person at a party of two hundred, feeling strung out and miserable. It's been about a week or so since he last saw Brett - he and Noah have texted a little, but it's awkward, and Liam's walls are up. 

He's on the defensive. He knows that. He didn't think Brett was - like that - and now he feels betrayed, almost, angry that he was so, so fucking wrong about someone. That his sexuality matters so much to Brett, the good friendship they had - or at least what they had blooming - doesn't, not anymore.

He looks down at his beer. "Maybe I should get shitfaced," he mutters.

He hears a crashing noise and turns, squinting. One guy is shoving another - they're both tall and muscled, and Liam rolls his eyes as he looks away - before doing a double take.  
One of them is Brett. Liam freezes; he wants to get the fuck out of the party, now, before Brett can see he's here and beat him half to death like he couldn't at the record store, but - Brett seems drunk, and like he's losing the scuffle.

He puts his beer down and heads over. "Hey," he says. "What's up?" He recognises the other guy - Ethan, from one of his classes.

Ethan shoves Brett again. "Nothing," he says. "He with you?"

Brett stumbles a little, running into Liam. "I guess he is now," Liam says dryly. 

Ethan shoves Brett onto Liam, forcing Liam to catch him and bear his weight. "Whatever," Ethan growls. "Just keep him out of my way."

"You got it," Liam says, watching as Ethan leaves before propping Brett up against the wall. He's totally shitfaced; Liam can barely make out his pupils, they're so wide. 

"How'd you get here?" he asks. He's not gonna ditch Brett, but he doesn't want to risk Brett whaling on him either - physically or verbally.

"Hey, Liam," Brett slurs.

Liam sighs. "Hi, Brett." He looks around. "Come with friends?"

"Gone home."

"Of course they have. Where's your phone?"

"Hmm, um, pocket." 

"Can I have it?"

Brett nods once and stumbles as he goes to get his phone out, then hands it to Liam. Liam opens it - there's no passcode - and begins scrolling through Brett's contacts. "What's your roommate's name?" he asks.

"Pete."

"Thanks." Liam finds Pete in Brett's phone and dials the number.

It rings four times before a click sounds, indicating that someone's picked up. "Hello?" the voice asks.

"Are you Brett's roommate?" Liam asks sheepishly.

"Uh... yeah?" the voice asks slowly, warily.

"Um, hi," Liam says lamely. "I'm - I'm with Brett at a party, he's really drunk."

"Fuck," Pete groans. "Okay. He drove. Check his back pockets - that's usually where he keeps his keys."

Liam leans Brett against the wall, somewhat awkwardly, and looks at him. "Sorry, man," he says as he leans forward, blushing, and fishes around in Brett's back pockets, one at a time. Brett grumbles crankily into Liam's hair.

"Found 'em," Liam says.

"Awesome. Look, I'm still at work - I'll be finished at midnight. Just take his keys off him and I'll come get him."

"Are you sure? I can drive," Liam says.

"You can?"

"Yeah. I haven't been drinking or anything. I can drive him home."

"Do you drive stick?" Pete asks skeptically.

"You don't grow up in Texas and not know how to drive stick," Liam replies. "I'll drive him home. Um, he's - he's pretty shitfaced. He's probably gonna get sick." 

"Oh, God," Pete groans. "That's like the third time this week."

"This week? How can he afford that?" Liam wonders aloud.

"Look, don't worry, okay, kid? Just get him back there. I'll see you soon, I guess." 

With that, Pete hangs up, and Liam's left with Brett - who seems to have mistaken him for a leaning post, judging by the way he's slouching.

"Come on," Liam says. "I told your roommate I'd take you home."

"I don't wanna go home," Brett complains.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to do things you don't wanna do," Liam sighs. "Like drive some drunk guy home from a party who doesn't even like you that much."

Brett frowns. "Who doesn't like you?" he demands.

"Forget it," Liam sighs.

"I wanna fight him," Brett grumbles.

"Sure you do." Liam pulls Brett's arm around his shoulders. "Let's go."

"Where is he?"

"He left," Liam says patiently. "You can fight him tomorrow if my honour is that important to you." 

"Won't remember tomorrow," Brett grumbles.

"Yeah, I'm counting on that," Liam sighs as he helps Brett outside. He spots Brett's car - mercifully close to the house - and heads over to it, unlocking it and loading Brett into the passenger seat. "Stay still and don't puke."

"I'm not even that drunk," Brett slurs.

"Sure." Liam adjusts the seat and mirrors. "Like I said, don't puke. It's your car - you can clean it tomorrow if you do."

The drive to Brett's place, with Pete's directions, is mercifully short - hustling Brett up the stairs of the apartment complex, unlocking the door and forcing him onto the couch is a different story. Brett's way bigger than him and he's not cooperative at all. 

Liam finds a bucket under the kitchen sink and puts it in front of Brett's face, then turns him on his side with a low sigh, rubbing his face.

It's past eleven. He's watching a drunk person who doesn't even like him. He could be at home eating junk and watching the X-Files, but he isn't; he's stuck here making sure Brett doesn't choke on his own vomit and die. 

He calls Mason, worried that the phone will ring out until Mason answers - on the last ring. "Hey, Liam," he says, sounding confused. "What's up? I thought you were gonna crash at Sam's."

"Party was shit," Liam says. "I had to drag Brett's sorry ass home because he got in a fight and I somehow ended up responsible for him. He's shitfaced. Uh - if I give you gas money, can you come get me at some point?" 

"You don't need to give me gas money, dude," Mason says. "I'll come get you. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Liam sighs. "Regretting every choice I've made in the last two hours, but I'm fine. I'll send you a text when his roommate is home."

"Alright. See you soon, dude."

"Bye." 

Liam sits back. He's bored, but he's too nervous to really do anything about it, so he ends up playing Candy Crush on his phone until the front door opens. Liam shoots a quick text to Mason.

He jumps out of his chair as the man Liam assumes is Brett's roommate enters. "Hi," he says tiredly.

"Hi," Liam says, feeling awkward.

Pete approaches Brett and looks down at him, sighing. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he mutters, but Brett's been passed out for the last forty minutes or so and doesn't answer. "Recovery position, huh?"

"Mhm," Liam says. 

"You're good. Dealt with drunk people before, huh?" 

Liam flashes back to his dad, and how, as a ten year old, he often had to roll his father onto his side to stop him getting sick - even if he usually did get a kick to the ribs and shins for his efforts. "Yeah," he says. "Plenty." 

Pete stands up properly - he'd been kneeling next to Brett before that. He turns around to take Liam in, and Liam drops his gaze to the floor, inspecting his shoes.

"So you're Liam, huh?"

Liam shoves his hands into his pockets nervously. "Yup." 

"Cool." Pete looks at him, seeming confused. "Have you got a way home or anything? I don't wanna leave him on his own."

"My roommate's coming to get me," Liam says. "Thanks."

"No problem," Pete says slowly. "He uh - he say anything to you?"

"Nothing that made much sense," Liam says with a shrug.

His phone whirrs; Mason's not far away. "I'd better go stand on the step," he says. "He's not gonna know where I am. Uh, can you - if Brett doesn't remember I helped him, can you just not mention it to him?"

"Why?" Pete asks slowly.

Liam shrugs. "He doesn't like me very much at the moment."

"Doesn't - huh?" Pete splutters.

"Mm. I dunno." Liam looks down at his shoes, depressed all over again. "I'm gonna go. Um, make sure he's okay." 

"Liam, wait," Pete says. "Whatever you think about Brett - you're probably wrong, okay?"

Liam tilts his head. "Okay," he says slowly. "Nice meeting you."

"You too."

Liam makes sure he's got everything before heading out of the apartment, down the elevator, and out onto the street. It's cold, but he doesn't have to wait long; Mason pulls up after two minutes.

"Hey," he says as Liam slumps into the passenger seat. "Long night?"

"Awful night," Liam mumbles, rubbing his face. 

"Sounds like you need Chipotle," Mason says. "Let's go."

Liam turns his head. The light in Brett and Pete's apartment is still on; he can see shadows moving inside. 

"Yeah," he says. "Let's go." 

~*~

He puts Brett out of his mind for a week or so.

He doesn't hear or see anything. He goes about his life, submitting assignments and hanging out with Hayden and Mason in his spare time. But he withdraws a little, and they seem to notice, because Hayden's trying her best not to coddle him, and Mason's trying his best not to push too hard. Between the two of them, they have the pressure just right. He's grateful for them.

It's a freezing cold, raining Wednesday when Liam's sitting behind the counter at the music store, minding his own business, when the bell goes.

He sighs. This is one of those shifts he's just praying will pass quickly; actually having to serve people is wearing on him today. "Hi," he calls out boredly. "How're you today?"

"Hi."

Liam's head whips up; Brett's standing in the doorway, looking sheepish.

Liam recoils, just a little bit; he looks away. "Hi," he mumbles back.

Brett enters the shop, closing the door behind him. His hair is wet; it must be raining, and as far and Liam's noticed, Brett doesn't own anything with a hood on it.

"Need some more music?" Liam tries. He's still staring at the counter.

Brett shakes his head. "What're you, um, up to?" he asks.

"... Working," Liam says awkwardly.

Brett sighs. "I remembered what happened last week," he says. "The party. You drove me home."

"Yeah," Liam says uncomfortably.

There's a long silence. Liam fidgets nervously with a pen, clicking it rapidly before he remembers that that's really annoying and beginning to spin it idly in his fingers. He lifts his head, scrapes Brett's eyes, and then goes back to his careful inspection of the counter.

"I came in to thank you," Brett says softly.

"What for?" Liam's still too nervous to meet Brett's eyes properly. Brett's acting like nothing happened last week; like he wasn't outwardly disgusted by Noah kissing him.

"For getting me home," Brett says gently. "Pete told me what happened. Thanks."

Liam shrugs. "Sorry for ruining your fun," he says nervously.

"I wasn't having any fun." Brett sounds confused. "Hey, why aren't you looking at me?"

"I am looking at you," Liam says, lifting his eyes to scrape Brett's. 

There's a long pause; Liam drops his eyes back to the counter, to his work, continuing to circle and cross out different inventory items. Brett stays where he is, quiet, and Liam tries not to think about how similar this is to the last time Brett was here - minus Noah, of course.

"Are you scared of me?" Brett breathes.

Liam barely manages to meet his eyes. "Kind of."

"Why?" Brett asks. "What - what have - why?" 

"I saw how you looked," Liam says. "When Noah kissed me. I saw your face. Why wouldn't I be?"

Brett blinks. "I wasn't - that wasn't-"

A phone starts to ring. Liam doesn't need to look to know that it isn't his; Brett fishes in his pocket, sees the number on the screen, and turns to Liam frantically.

"Can I come back and see you later?" he pleads. "So we can talk? I just really have to take this, I-"

"Sure," Liam says quietly. He tries not to let the bitterness or the anger or, God forbid, the hurt seep into his voice. "Whenever's fine."

"When do you finish?"

"Three."

"Okay." With that, Brett's hurrying out of the store, phone to his ear. Liam sighs, berates himself for getting his hopes up, berates his dick for still finding Brett so fucking beautiful, and then stands up, intent on doing something moderately useful with his shift.

~*~

When Brett tells Liam he'll come back, it's ten thirty.

By the time Jo's come in to take over at three, he still hasn't been back; Liam's so fucking disappointed his eyes burn with it, and he slinks out of the store with his metaphorical tail between his legs. 

He just wants to catch the bus home, go to bed, and sleep. Or watch the X-Files and eat a fuckload of M&M's. The next bus is twenty minutes away, so Liam decides to go get something to eat first. Namely, M&M's. The peanut kind. It's a go hard or go home kind of day.

He's just heading back to the bus stop with his prizes when he hears someone calling his name, and turns to find Brett jogging after him, looking stressed.

"What?" Liam asks flatly.

"Hey," Brett pants. "I'm sorry I didn't make it back to the store before you finished. I wanted to. I wanted to talk-"

"About what?" Liam keeps walking to the bus stop; it's five minutes away, which gives Brett five minutes to destroy him emotionally. Five minutes too many.

"About what you said before," Brett says. "About me thinking you kissing that guy was disgusting. I did, but-"

Liam whirls around. "You don't have to like me," he snaps. "That's fine. Whatever. I just wish it wasn't because I'm gay."

"Liam!" Brett seems stunned. "I don't hate you! And even if I did it wouldn't be for that!"

"Really."

"Really!" 

"Then what for?"

"I didn't like seeing you kiss that other guy because - I wouldn't like seeing you kiss anyone," Brett says. "Look, I know you're dense but - I figured that by now you'd know I've been flirting with you."

Liam blinks. "No you haven't."

"Yes I have," Brett insists helplessly. "Obviously not very well if you didn't notice, but I have been. Seeing you kiss someone else sucked because - well, because I didn't move fast enough and someone else got there first."

Liam opens his mouth, closes it. Blinks. "You've been-"

"Flirting with you," Brett says. "Right from the start. I know you never got it but I didn't have the guts to ask you out. I didn't know if you were gay. Or bi. Which is what I am, by the way. So I was never overt about it, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but - seeing you with someone else really pissed me off. And he acted like he owned you. You looked so uncomfortable."

"I was," Liam admits. "I'm not, uh - not good with affection. Or telling people how I feel. Or reading between the lines. Look, if you want me to know something, you have to tell me. I'll never be able to guess, okay?"

Brett smiles a little, but it's gentle. "Alright," he says. "Liam, I've been flirting with you for two months and I would like to take you out on a date."

Liam struggles to smile back; he's never been that openly honest with anyone before. "That sounds good." 

"You don't have to," Brett says gently. "Whatever happened with Noah, I'm guessing it didn't end well." 

Liam shrugs. He's feeling kind of torn up at the moment. "Ended as well as it could have, I suppose." Still, he can't ever see a time where he'll forget Noah telling him that him being scared was letting other people win.

Brett tilts his head. "Doesn't have to be a real date," he says softly. "If that makes you nervous. We can just hang out somewhere and, I dunno. Play video games? Watch TV? I dunno, what do you like to do?" 

Not feel stressed, Liam thinks. Not feeling stressed is nice. "I um," he says. 

"You're still scared," Brett realises aloud, slowly. "What of?"

"Everything," Liam jokes weakly. "Mostly that you'll ask me to Netflix and chill."

"Dude. I think you're hot, but... not this soon. We should at least go on a date first." Brett's tone is light; he's teasing Liam a little, but he's also completely serious while doing it. Unknowingly, Brett's said exactly what Liam needed to hear in order to loosen up a bit; he smiles, finally, and says, "I like movies. We could go see something?" 

"Sure."

"I mostly just like buying junk food," Liam admits. "I never do it unless I'm seeing a movie though."

Brett laughs. "Okay. So we get there early to get junk food. Have you seen Deadpool?"

"Three times," Liam says.

"Wow," Brett says slowly. "Uh... why?"

"I really liked it," Liam says, and Brett laughs like he wasn't expecting to hear that. "I'll go see it again," Liam says. "Not like there's much else on."

"Yeah, true." Brett rocks on his heels, looking as awkward as Liam feels. "So... can I get your number or something?"

Liam laughs and holds out his hand. Brett blinks at him.

"Phone," Liam says. "I'll put it in for you." 

Brett hands his phone over, and Liam goes straight to his contacts - Brett's personal stuff isn't his business. Not yet, but Liam would like it to be - he'd like to be part of Brett's personal stuff if this date goes well. 

He enters his number and hands the phone back. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Brett looks around. "Shit, when's your bus coming?"

"About now," Liam says, motioning to where it's turning the corner. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Uh, I'm really sorry about before."

Liam shrugs. "That's okay." 

"Really?"

"Yup." He fishes in his pocket for some change. "I gotta run or I'll miss it," he says apologetically. "Bye."

"Bye, Liam," Brett says.

Liam only just gets to the bus stop in time; the driver gives him a petulant look, but accepts his fare. It's crowded, so he stays standing up, holding onto the ceiling rail.

His phone starts to buzz, and he takes it out of his pocket. The number isn't in his phone, so he swipes and says, "Hello?" 

"Okay," Brett's voice says. "I know this is weird but I just wanted to make sure you didn't give me a bogus number."

Liam laughs.

~*~

He goes straight to Hayden's dorm, because Mason's in class. He has no doubt that as soon as he tells Hayden what's going on, she'll message Mason anyway, so he's killing two birds with one stone anyway.

She opens the door wearing her silk pyjama shorts, a crop top and fuzzy socks, hair piled on top of her head, one half of it curled.

Liam gestures. "I can come back," he says sheepishly.

"That's okay," she says cheerfully, tugging him inside. "Syd's not here right now anyway. What's up?" 

"You're going to call me crazy and you'll be right, probably, but hear me out," Liam says. "Brett came into the shop today."

Hayden narrows her eyes. "Oh he did, huh?"

"Yeah. He said he doesn't think it's gross I'm gay. He uh - he was actually pissed off that I was kissing Noah because he wanted to ask me out."

Hayden stares at him, slack-jawed. "He couldn't have just told you that?"

"I'm not gonna drag him for that," Liam says, flopping down on her bed and sprawling out comfortably. "My communication skills are shit too." 

"Yeah, well, that's you. He's him."

"That made sense."

"I thought he'd been flirting with you," Hayden murmurs. "He really threw me off, though, when he found out about Noah. So he was just pissed off?"

"Yeah. I'm going on a date with him."

"You're what?" Hayden squawks.

"Yeah." 

"He made you feel like shit for weeks!" Hayden says heatedly. "And now he decides he doesn't want to and that he's going to take you on a date? Liam, the next time I see him, I-"

"Please don't give him too much shit," Liam pleads. "Okay? If he's shit later you can. But for now he seems, I dunno. Apologetic and stuff."

"... Okay," Hayden mutters. "But I threatened Noah and I'm gonna threaten him too."

"What if you scare him off?" Liam rolls onto his stomach and reaches into her bedside table - he knows there's chocolate in there somewhere.

"If I scare him off he was weak and unworthy anyway. I'm five foot seven, I weigh maybe a hundred and ten pounds dripping wet - if he's scared of me he's not boyfriend material."

"You don't look like you're more than a hundred," Liam says sweetly.

"You're only saying that because you're eating my chocolate," Hayden grumbles.

"That's not true," Liam mumbles around a mouthful of Hershey's Kisses. 

"Right." She lets a section of her hair down; Liam watches interestedly. He doesn't know how Hayden somehow magically transforms herself into a towering, mildly scary badass after wearing pink and red heart-patterned shorts. 

"If people see you here they'll think we're sleeping together," Hayden says.

"Should I take my shirt off to make it more authentic?"

Hayden giggles. "No. Then I'll have everyone parading past my room every hour hoping to see you."

Liam blinks. "I'm nothing special."

"Liam, you're pretty hot," Hayden says. "And sweet, which I'm sure they all know by now. I don't know how you don't know that. Garrett hit on you, then Noah asked you out, and now Brett."

Liam shrugs helplessly. "I don't pay much attention to that stuff."

"Yeah, that's why people like you." She sits on the bed beside him, smiling. "They can tell you're not faking anything."

"I am," Liam says, rolling onto his back. "I'm the walking embodiment of faking it till you make it, Hayds. Someone should tell everyone."

"Dork," she says fondly.

~*~

**From** : XXX-XXX-XXXX, 6:49PM  
Hey :) 

Liam frowns at his phone, puts his glasses on, and tries reading the number properly. He still doesn't recognise it.

**To** : XXX-XXX-XXXX, 6:49PM  
New phone who dis

He sniggers a little to himself, figuring whoever's got the wrong number will be sufficiently put off to not text him again, and goes back to the X-Files.

His phone vibrates almost straight away.

**From** : XXX-XXX-XXXX, 6:52PM  
Did you just meme me

"That's the most I've ever heard your phone go off," Mason comments, swivelling in his desk chair to look at Liam. "Who is it?"

Liam frowns. "Someone with the wrong number I think."

**To** : XXX-XXX-XXXX, 6:53PM  
No seriously, I don't know who this is. Lol 

**From** : XXX-XXX-XXXX, 6:53PM  
You only gave me your number four hours ago! Hahaha

"Oh shit," Liam breathes, and then his phone starts to ring - with the same number, which he's now realised is Brett's - Brett's number, which, for some reason, he never saved into his contacts.

"Hi," he says sheepishly.

"What, am I that forgettable?" Brett teases.

"Uh, no, I just - I'm kind of shit and forgot to put your name in my phone. I thought you had the wrong number," Liam says, wincing.

"That explains why you used a meme on me," Brett says. "And an unfunny one at that. I kinda thought you had so many people trying to pick you up you just didn't remember me."

"Just you today," Liam says, which wasn't meant to be funny, but Brett laughs anyway. "So um... I'll save your number this time," he says lamely.

"Okay," Brett chuckles. "Good plan. Listen, um, what days are good for you? For the movie that is. I'm looking now."

"It can be any day, really, if night time suits you," Liam mumbles, aware that Mason's watching him gleefully. "I only work till four this week." 

"Okay. There's an eight thirty viewing on Thursday if you wanna go to that - shouldn't be too crowded, either."

"Sounds good." 

There's a long, awkward pause. Liam listens to Brett breathe into the phone, then says, "Well, my roommate is listening to everything I'm saying, so I'm gonna get off now."

Brett laughs as Mason's mouth drops open. "Listening? Why?"

"He's got no life I guess. Ow!" Liam laughs as Mason launches a pillow at him. "Fuck off!"

"Okay, I'll let you go," Brett chuckles. "See you Thursday. And uh, whenever you're in at work, I guess." 

Liam grins. "Yeah. See you." 

~*~

Liam goes to Hayden for fashion advice, because Mason wants to put him in a painfully tight pair of jeans and tank top, despite it being winter, saying it shows off his arms.

He guesses Brett must like how he dresses anyway if he asked Liam out, so when Hayden asks him what he thinks Brett would like, he just shrugs helplessly and says, "A step up from normal?"

"Okay," she says, smiling as she heads to Liam's closet. "Well, here." She hands him his regular black jeans, a denim jacket, and a tightish grey crewneck. "I think you're good."

"What about shoes?"

"You only have two pairs, Liam. Your runners and Converse."

"I could buy more," Liam says petulantly.

"Not on our wage," she sighs. "At least you'll have a job at the end of your degree." 

"I might not. Maybe I'll flunk."

"Don't even joke, Liam." She nods approvingly when he's dressed. "That's good. Step up from usual, but not trying too hard."

"What if I wanna try too hard?" 

"... Have you got enough time to go shopping before your date?"

Liam's jaw drops open. "Rude," he snipes, ignoring Hayden's giggle as he picks up his things. "Thanks. For helping me out."

"No problem. Hey, text me when you're home, okay? Just so I know he didn't murder you and throw you in a ditch."

"Jesus," Liam says, bewildered. "He's not gonna murder me, Hayds. He's awkward, but he's not a fucking serial killer." He huffs. "I think I'd be able to tell if he was gonna, I dunno, dismember me and use my body parts in a ritual sacrifice." 

"You didn't have to get graphic," she says.

He shrugs. "Sorry. Look, I'd better go."

"Don't get murdered," she says cheerfully.

"... Thanks."

~*~

"You look nice."

Liam smiles nervously. "Thanks. So do you."

There's a long pause. "So," Brett says. "Did you agree to go out with me as a YOLO thing? Or do you actually sort of like me?"

"Not anymore," Liam says. "You said YOLO and it wasn't even ironic."

Brett tosses his head back and laughs. "So I can't say that?"

"Absolutely not," Liam grumbles. "You know how many people have YOLO'd their way into an early grave?" 

Brett chuckles again, quietly. "That says more about their intelligence than the turn of phrase."

Liam smiles up at him, almost breathless. He likes the way Brett talks and the way he looks when he laughs, that his stride is almost goofily long, that he walks with his hands in his pockets, the way his hair bounces a little at the front, barely restrained by whatever he puts in it to keep it that way.

"Your nose is red," Brett teases him.

Liam blushes. "I'm pretty cold." 

"Not used to it yet?"

"Nope. I'm barely used to getting out of bed before eight."

Brett smiles, stops, and takes off his hoodie. "Here."

Liam, predictably, blushes even more than what he already was. "I, uh - you'll-"

"You don't have to," Brett says gently. "But if you're cold, you should take it. Just till we get to the theatre, anyway - then you can take it off and nobody will know."

Liam swallows; Brett clearly knows what's stopping him. He wonders, briefly, if Brett would be offended if Liam turned him down - then realises Brett probably knows exactly what he's thinking and feeling and doesn't want to find out.

He takes the hoodie and slips it on. "Thanks," he says. "I'm uh, I'm sort of drowning in it. But thanks."

Brett laughs. "It's not that bad," he says. "Just the sleeves." Before Liam has to try and think of a witty response to that, Brett continues. "How was your day?"

"I - uh," Liam says, floundering. Nobody ever really asks him how his day was. "Good? Work kinda sucked."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He doesn't mention that Garrett keeps coming in to bluster about his brother's band or his new car or whatever. It's not that important, and he feels like he probably shouldn't mention other guys on their date. "Our boss does dodgy stuff and we have to deal with it."

"Sounds like my boss," Brett says dryly. 

"Hmm," Liam murmurs in reply.

They've reached the cinema; when they get in, Liam's surprised as Brett holds up two tickets. "I already got them," he says apologetically. "Hope you don't mind - just thought it'd save time if the bus was late."

Liam smiles. "Thanks. Food's on me." 

Brett doesn't argue, which Liam's grateful for - they order a sinful amount of junk food to take into the theatre with them. Liam gives Brett his hoodie back as they settle into their seats - this is one of the last runs of Deadpool, and it's a Thursday night, so it's almost empty. 

"Am I gonna be bored?" Brett asks.

"No," Liam says idly, scrounging around for the orange Skittles. "Well, I mean, I hope not. But it's not a typical superhero movie."

"What the hell are you doing?" Brett asks.

Liam blinks. "Looking for all the orange ones."

"Why?"

"... So I can eat them?"

"You eat the orange ones first? What's wrong with you?"

"They're my favourite. I like orange-flavoured stuff."

Brett wrinkles his nose. "Nobody likes orange flavoured stuff," he argues. 

"I do."

"That's good for me then. I get the good flavours." 

The room goes dark, and Brett stops talking. Once again, as soon as the lights are off, Liam's hyper aware of Brett's body next to his - of the heat coming off his arm. Brett seems pretty relaxed, unlike Noah, and Liam tries to follow his example. 

He's doing a pretty good job until Brett's fingertips skim the back of his hand, over his knuckles, feather-light and almost apologetic. Questioning, like he's asking if this is okay. 

It's more than okay. After getting his heart out of his throat, Liam flips his hand over; when he glances sideways, Brett's smiling, his teeth glinting a bluish white in the darkness of the theatre. He starts tracing the lines of Liam's palm, and Liam's suddenly not sure what's going on in the movie anymore - he's memorising the path of Brett's fingertips across the soft, sensitive skin of his inner palm.

By the end of the movie - and Liam thinks the best part of seeing it a fourth time is watching Brett's reactions to it - Brett's hand is loosely tangled with his, and Liam doesn't even feel weird about it. Even when the lights come on, he doesn't make a move.

Brett leans back, chuckling. "That was great," he says, smiling. "I can't believe I waited that long to see it. How was the fourth time?" 

"Pretty good. Still. I mean, Ryan Reynolds, right?" 

"Right. He doesn't really do it for me, but yeah."

"Looks good in spandex," Liam points out. 

"That's true." Brett starts to stand, and Liam follows him, letting go of Brett's hand in the process. "C'mon," Brett says, smiling. "I'll walk you back to the bus stop." 

The streets are even colder now; it looks like it's going to rain as they step outside, and the pavement is already wet. They're still talking as they head back to the bus stop.

It seems to only take seconds to reach it; Liam stops about fifty yards away. "Thanks for getting the tickets," he says, feeling a little awkward about the imminent goodbye. "I can pay you back."

"Don't worry about it. It was a date. You don't owe me anything."

Liam knows he's turning pink. "Thanks." He turns a little. "I'd better go wait. Just in case I miss it." 

"Okay. Yeah. Bye."

"Bye," Liam says, and begins towards the bus stop.

He's only a few yards away when Brett calls, "Liam, wait."

Liam turns back to Brett curiously.

"Hey," Brett says awkwardly. "It's late. And cold. When does the bus come?"

Liam checks his phone. "Half an hour," he responds confusedly. "Why?"

Brett smiles and gestures in the direction of the cinema's parking lot. "C'mon. You want a lift home?"

Liam smiles and nods, heading back towards Brett. He knows Brett won't murder him, because he's been in Brett's car before, so he feels safe climbing in and sinking back into the seat.

Brett cranks the heat right after he starts the engine. "So, was it good a fourth time?"

Liam smiles and nods.

"That tiny hand," Brett murmurs. "That was so fucked up." 

Liam laughs. "That's my favourite part."

"Yeah, it would be."

Liam turns to Brett, meaning to say something, but his voice dies as he sees Brett's profile under the beam of the streetlights. He's almost impossibly beautiful, especially when he's smiling and his teeth are showing and his arm, extended to hold the steering wheel, is flexed.

Liam swallows thickly, kind of hoping his dick settles the fuck down until he's back in his dorm room. He wishes they were further down the track, that there was some sort of guarantee this will become a real thing, that he was brave enough to ask Brett to stay the night, even if they did just sleep.

For all he knows, Brett won't want to see him again. Liam's sure there are more interesting people around.

"You wanna listen to anything?" Brett asks.

"Whatever's on. I don't mind." 

Brett hits the play button on the CD drive; Liam smiles. "So that's why you keep buying CD's, huh?"

"You got me." Pvris starts filtering out of Brett's speakers. "This okay?"

"This is good."

They're quiet for a moment; Liam's kind of tired and just enjoying Brett's company, even though he knows he should make an effort to be, well, even a little more interesting. Then Brett says, "I have a confession to make."

Liam turns to him nervously. "Um, yeah?"

"The only reason I kept coming in to buy CD's was to have an excuse to talk to you," Brett admits. "I figured if I asked for recommendations I'd work out what you liked and have a discussion point."

"That's really smart," Liam says. "I would've been too nervous to talk to you otherwise."

"I gathered that much."

It's not long before they're back; the car ride is infinitely shorter than the bus ride, what with the bus doing a weird loop to reach all its stops and actually stopping. Brett parks outside his dorm hall and looks up.

"You want me to walk you up?" he asks.

"That's okay," Liam says, yawning. "I'm just gonna hit the hay anyway. Up early this morning." He unclips his seatbelt. "Thanks," he says quietly. "I had a really good time."

"Good," Brett says, smiling. "So did I. What're we seeing next?"

Next. Liam grins; next means there's going to be more. "Um," he says, chuckling. "I'll let you know. Hayden texted me half an hour ago thinking I'm dead, though, so I better get inside."

"Okay," Brett says. "Night."

"Night," Liam says. "Thanks."

He steps out of the car and waves Brett goodbye, heading upstairs and into his dorm room. Mason isn't here; Liam realises he's at a party somewhere.

When he turns to the window to lower the blind, Brett's car is still idling out the front, steam rising from the bonnet with the cold. He waves at Liam as he drives away.

_He waited for me to get in safely_ , Liam realises. He feels sort of warm at that as he sits down and takes his shoes off. 

Then he remembers Hayden thinks he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere and grabs his phone to text her back.

~*~

**From** : Brett Talbot, 10:39AM  
Do you like cake?

Liam blinks at his phone; Hayden turns to him. "Who's that?" she asks as she lifts a box of their markdowns onto the counter.

"Just Brett," Liam says softly.

Hayden narrows her eyes. "Is he done ignoring you?"

"C'mon, Hayds. You can't hate him forever." Liam taps back a quick "yeah" to Brett and looks at Hayden pleadingly. "He did one shitty thing, doesn't mean he'll do it again."

"I don't care," Hayden grumbles. "He has to prove himself just like everyone else does."

"I'll let him know," Liam says with an eyeroll.

**To** : Brett Talbot, 10:42AM  
Hayden says you have to prove yourself. Why'd you ask me about cake? :/

**From** : Brett Talbot, 10:43AM  
Okay, challenge accepted. Chocolate?

"What's he asking about?" Hayden says suspiciously. "He's not asking you for dick pics, is he?"

"Do you think I'd still be texting him if he was?" Liam asks. "No, he's asking me if I like cake. Which I do. I just dunno why he needs to know so bad." He points his sharpie at her as she opens her mouth. "Don't even go where I think you're about to."

Hayden smiles innocently at him. 

"By the way," Liam says conversationally, "I saw you leave the dorm hall earlier this morning."

She chokes on the mouthful of water she was just taking. "Huh?" 

"I saw you leaving. You still had your makeup on, too, which means-"

"Walk of shame," she sighs.

"No shame in getting laid," Liam says, resigned to the fact that he's far too nervous around hot guys to actually get laid himself. "Mason would tell you that." 

"Well, there might not be shame in getting laid, but there's way too much to be said for waking up next to some dudebro who hasn't shaven in weeks and doesn't seem like he knows how you got into his bed," Hayden says. "He didn't even offer me breakfast."

"Would you have stayed?" Liam asks skeptically.

"No," she admits, and he laughs.

"Hey. You ever have to do the walk of shame again, just swing by our dorm. I'll give you breakfast."

"Thanks, Liam," she says, smiling.

They go about their work after that, for at least another half an hour, before the shop door opens and Brett blows in, looking cold and a little harassed, carrying a tray and a box. 

"Hey," he says to Liam, smiling.

"Hi," Liam says confusedly. "What's all that?" 

"Coffee," Brett says, putting the tray down, "and cake."

"So that's why you asked me about cake," he says. "Listen, Hayden's here, and-"

"That's okay, I brought her cake as well. If I have to win over your best friend to date you, I will." 

Liam blushes, because Brett's smiling but he also sounds pretty serious. "Thanks," he says. "You didn't have to - how much was all this? I'll pay you back-"

"You aren't paying me back. You're a poor college student."

"That's true, but I've also got pride. Somewhere. Buried." 

Hayden sticks her head out of the storeroom door. "You," she says to Brett flatly.

"Nice to see you too," Brett says. "I brought you cake." 

Her face softens a little. "Cake?"

"And coffee." 

"Why?"

"He told me I have to prove myself. So here I am, proving myself. Cake and coffee." 

Hayden stares at him blankly; Liam snickers. "You broke her," he says to Brett. "Now I'm gonna have to reset her." He turns to Hayden. "Weren't you going to threaten him?"

"I was," Hayden says confusedly. "Um - thanks."

Liam grins at Brett, who looks sort of bemused as Hayden slinks away. 

"What... was that about?" Brett asks slowly. 

"I think you won her over. She didn't want you to," Liam chuckles. "Thanks for this."

"She was going to threaten me?"

Liam swallows a bite of his cake. "It's just her thing," he says. "She's pretty protective over me. Her and Mason both are, but Mason would never threaten anyone, so Hayden fills in for both of them. She threatened Noah too."

"Sounds like he needed it," Brett says flippantly. 

Liam sighs, but he smiles. "You don't need to be jealous of Noah," he says. "Now that - that was a spur of the moment choice on my part. I was just sick of pining for you."

"Aww. I feel so much better. Thank you."

Liam chuckles. "What're you doing here anyway?" he asks. "I mean, other than coffee and cake."

"I can't come just to see you?" Brett asks, batting his eyelids.

"You're gross," Liam comments. "Seriously."

"You love it," Brett sniggers, but reaches into his backpack and produces two sheets of paper, holding them up triumphantly. "I'm here because of these."

Liam raises his eyebrows. "You learned how to use a printer. How impressive." 

"Prick," Brett says fondly. "Take a look." He puts them down and pushes them towards Liam; Liam turns them to face him, squinting to make out the writing.

"Are these tickets to Batman Vs Superman?" he breathes.

"They're not just tickets," Brett says. "They're pre-premiere tickets. As in, we get to see it before it's even released in theatres."

Liam stares up at Brett. "Are you serious?"

"You look like a kid on Christmas morning," Brett chuckles.

"We?" Liam double-checks. "As in, you wanna take me to this?"

"You bet. Are you in?"

"Fuck yeah I'm in!" Liam looks down at the tickets, realising that he's smiling so wide his cheeks almost hurt. "How the fuck did you get these?"

"I entered a competition. I didn't think I'd win, but here we are." 

"This is so cool," Liam says gleefully.

The stock room door opens, and Hayden enters, going stiff when she sees Brett. "You're still here," she says flatly.

"You can't be mean to him anymore," Liam says. "He's taking me to a pre-screening of Batman Vs Superman." 

Hayden raises her eyebrows at Brett. "Well," she says. "I hope you're ready for marriage. He'll propose to you by the end of the day. Are you a dork too?"

"Not as much as Liam, apparently," Brett snickers, and Liam leans over to punch him lightly. "Ow, what? You knew almost every one-liner in Deadpool, quoted the entire Batman Vs Superman trailer, and know the release dates for almost every current TV show." 

Liam feels a flush sweeping up his neck. "Lots of people do that," he mumbles.

Hayden winces. "No they don't, sweetie."

"Don't call me sweetie," Liam grumbles. "And don't patronise me. I'm the reason you never have to look anything up."

"And I love you for it," she says sweetly, kissing his temple. 

"So you're in, right?" Brett asks hopefully.

Liam smiles; he's still kind of in shock that someone like Brett actually wants to hang out with him. "Yeah," he murmurs happily. "I'm in. Um, what day? And time?"

"It's about a week away," Brett says. "Tuesday night. I'll pick you up at four." 

I'll pick you up at four; there are no questions asked. Liam's not catching the bus; he knows that. "Okay," he says with a smile.

"Okay." Brett hesitates for a moment, then grips his hand gently and lets go. "Look, I gotta get to work. I'll text you the rest of the details later." He stands up. "Enjoy the cake, Hayden," he says as he leaves. "I'll win you over eventually." 

"She won't make it easy," Liam warns him as he leaves.

The moment the door swings shut, Hayden's turning to him and smacking his shoulder excitedly. "He's picking you up!" she says, her voice a few octaves higher. "You're getting picked up! For a date! A nerd date!"

"Does this mean he's won you over?" Liam asks with a smile.

"No," she says huffily. "But it's a good start."

~*~

"So where are we going?" Liam asks.

He's getting into Brett's car; it's Tuesday, and he's fairly sure he's about to have one of the best nights of his life. Ever.

Brett smiles at him. "We're getting Japanese food."

"Uh... will the menu be in English this time?" Liam asks.

Brett laughs. "Yes. Don't worry. I mean, I could translate for you. But yeah, the menu is in English and the wait staff speak it - well, sort of, anyway. So you should be fine. Just, you know, don't order anything that's gonna make your eyes or nose run."

"Fuck you," Liam mutters, but he's smiling. "How far is it?"

"About half an hour," Brett says, then tosses his phone to Liam. "Put some music on."

"Got anything good?" Liam asks as he begins to scroll through Brett's iTunes library.

"Well, according to you and your recommendations, yes," Brett says.

"I never recommended you DJ Snake," Liam says dryly.

"Hey, hey. Just because you didn't recommend it doesn't mean it's crap," Brett admonishes him teasingly. "Now c'mon. Choose something."

Liam sees a long list by the same artist - EDEN - and puts that on, figuring that if Brett's got a lot of it, it must mean he likes it.

"I didn't mean to choose a sad one," Liam says after a moment, listening to the mournful piano filter through the speakers.

Brett chuckles. "I like this. It's fine." 

"Are you one of those weird people who isn't emotionally affected by what they're listening to?" Liam asks suspiciously. 

Brett laughs. "No. Having said that, I would find it very hard to be sad when I have such a hot guy in the car next to me."

Liam feels his ears burn and reaches up to scratch the one facing Brett - but Brett's expression tells him he's spotted Liam anyway. He's smirking, self-satisfied. He doesn't say anything, which Liam is sort of grateful for. 

"So," Brett says. "Passing all your classes?"

"Um - yeah."

Brett looks surprised. "Aren't you doing well?" he asks concernedly. "What's going on?"

"No, I am. Doing well, that is." 

"Ohh," Brett says, like he's having some sort of realisation. "I get it. You're actually doing really well and don't wanna say, huh? Is that it?"

Liam nods.

"C'mon, you can tell me," Brett coaxes gently. "You're allowed to feel proud of yourself for doing well. I know you study a lot." 

"Okay," Liam says uncertainly. "Yeah, I'm doing pretty well. I'm getting all A's at the moment. But it's interesting and new so I enjoy it." 

"I haven't met anyone interested in what they're doing in a long time," Brett says dryly. "I've even stopped caring about what I'm doing - which is shit of me considering the amount of loans I've had to take out."

Liam stays quiet. His mom and stepdad have really been able to help him out, but it's not really something he likes to broadcast. It feels braggy, and considering it's not his money... well, he'd rather just stay quiet about it. 

"How much longer do you have to live in the dorms?" Brett asks.

Liam shrugs. "One year. Mason and I will probably get a place together after that though. With Hayden, maybe." 

"None of you are in a frat? What about Hayden?"

"Hayden told me before we got our acceptance letters that she would rather "dig her own grave and have someone bury her alive, slowly" than join a sorority," Liam says dryly. "And me? You've met me. If I joined a frat they would know straight away that I'm gay." 

"What's that matter?" Brett asks gently. "Are you out?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" 

"My parents know," Liam says with a sigh. "And Mason and Hayden. But nobody else really knows. I'm not hiding it or anything... just the idea of having to say it over and over and over with no guarantee of a good response is enough to make me want to borrow Hayden's metaphorical grave." 

Brett nods. "Mm. I think I get that. How'd your parents react?" 

"They were happy for me, I think." Liam shrugs. "Mom made me a cake."

"Oh, God," Brett says, seeming stunned. "Really?"

"I like cake. It was okay." Liam looks over at Brett. "How about you?"

"My parents know," Brett confirms. "And almost everyone else in my life. I'm bi, but my last partner was a guy. I was with him for two years."

"Oh," Liam says, voice a little small.

"Don't worry," Brett sighs. "We aren't on good terms - or speaking terms, actually. He dumped me when I - well. I needed him and he wasn't there."

"Sorry," Liam says awkwardly.

"That's okay. And besides, it's not good manners to talk about exes when you're on a date with someone else, so - we won't mention him again, okay?" 

Liam nods, smiles a little. He's pretty happy with that. "Did your parents like him?"

"Mom did," Brett says. "Dad's always... I don't know. He loves me, and he's pretty accepting, but I think he still feels kind of strange about me being bi. I don't think he understands that it isn't as simple as "half gay, half straight". But yeah, he's supportive, mostly. How about your dad?"

"My stepdad's cool," Liam says. "They weren't surprised or anything when I told them. I mean, I overheard them talking one night - Mom was crying and stuff and thinking that I was gonna get my head bashed in or that I'd be ridiculed and shunned or whatever. So they worry about that a lot I think. About whether it's safe."

"Do you feel safe?"

"Well, no one's bashed me yet." 

"Don't say yet," Brett says softly. 

Liam nods, but he doesn't put the thought out of his mind, even though he'd like to. It's a possible reality - at least, as far as his own morbid consciousness feels - and to ignore it would be dumb of him. 

"Does Pete know?" Liam asks. "Your roommate?"

"Oh yeah, you met him," Brett remembers. "He knows. He's cool. Sometimes I think he might want in on the action... or any action, really."

"Been a while?"

"His last girlfriend broke his heart violently," Brett murmurs sadly. "Like, really reached in there and ripped it out and tore it to pieces and spelled out "fuck you" with it and then gave it back."

"... That's, uh, poetic of you," Liam says with a wince. 

"Poetic?"

"Well - fucked up. But. I was trying to be nice."

"Nice?" Brett teases. "Why?"

"I'm really hungry and I don't want you to turn around," Liam admits, and Brett laughs.

~*~

Liam consults Brett about every item on the menu he even considers ordering to make sure it isn't too spicy, too bland, or soup based - he's wearing a white t-shirt. Brett only gets more and more amused with every question, instead of getting annoyed, and that's pretty cool. Liam likes not having to try to be funny.

Liam decides that the best thing about the pre-screening is probably the free food - that, and everyone is so stoked to be seeing the movie before everyone else, nobody talks through the session.

Brett leans down and whispers to him, as they're standing in line, "No fake geeks here. Just real ones."

Liam smiles and shivers a little; Brett's standing strictly closer than necessary and his body warmth is a welcome change from the bitter winter winds. 

It's fucking freezing when they get out of the movie - the sun has gone down and there are cold winds whipping up and down the streets, and Liam sort of wishes he wore a thicker jacket. Not that it really matters in the end; Brett's leading him back to the car before Liam can bring the bus up, and waves him off when Liam says it's out of the way.

"That mean you remember where I live?" Brett teases.

Liam blushes. "Sorta. I mean, I know the general direction."

Brett snickers. "I'm just messing with you."

The drive home is pretty quiet. Liam's yawning and kind of sleepy - he had to get up early again for work this morning - and Brett seems content to hum along to the radio, forgoing the music on his phone. 

Brett opens his door when they get there instead of asking Liam whether he should walk him up. Liam likes this; he doesn't like making decisions and Brett's not encroaching on his privacy or space in any way that Liam doesn't want him to. He feels sort of bad that he'd balk if this was Noah. 

"The dorms suck," Brett comments.

"Yeah, I know," Liam murmurs back, trying to keep his voice down - everyone seems to be asleep, for the most part. "Sucks if you get sick. The heating doesn't work."

"Have you been sick?"

"Not yet. Somehow. Mason has a cold every other week." 

They approach Liam's dorm room door, and he pulls his keys out of his pocket before turning to Brett and giving him an awkward, tilted smile.

"That was fun," Brett says, smiling.

"Yeah." Liam rocks on the balls of his feet, feeling suddenly sort of awkward. "I uh, thanks for taking me. That's cool. That you even thought to, I mean. I know I wasn't your first choice-"

"You were my first choice," Brett says softly.

Liam blinks, feeling breathless with the admission. Brett seems to like him a lot, and they haven't really been dating long - are they dating? He's not sure - but this time, it doesn't feel as weird - because Liam likes Brett a lot too. The feeling is totally mutual.

"Thanks," Liam breathes.

Brett smiles fondly. His fingers are playing lightly with Liam's; Liam lets him do it just so he doesn't have to open his dorm room door and say goodnight. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

Brett's smile widens. "Nobody's ever asked me before," he murmurs, then leans down and fits his mouth against Liam's.

The fireworks that go off aren't the flashy kind, the kind that make lots of noise or rattle windows. These fireworks are slow burners, their sparks igniting slowly but surely, fizzling right down into Liam's fingertips and at the point of his nose and he's never enjoyed kissing anyone so much.

He has to stand up on his toes a little when he goes to reach for Brett's face, but he finds himself not minding as the pads of his fingers start stroking the light, sandy stubble on Brett's cheeks. He feels lightheaded with Brett's scent and body and presence enveloping him, drowning him.

Brett pulls back slowly, and Liam remembers to open his eyes. 

"Wow," Brett says.

"Sorry," Liam says, realising he might've gotten carried away.

"What for? That's probably the best kiss I've ever had."

Liam blushes, rubbing his neck. "Doubt it," he says. "Don't have a lot of experience."

"You can't tell," Brett assures him. "Anyway. That was fantastic and all, but we've both got class tomorrow, so... I'd better leave. Not that I want to."

_Maybe next time I'll ask you to stay_ , Liam thinks as he nods. _And you'll say yes._

"Okay," Liam says, begging himself to stop blushing. "Goodnight."

"Night." Brett swoops in and kisses him on the cheek, then leaves with a smile. Liam stands there for a second before he turns and unlocks his door.

"You kissed him!"

Liam reels backwards in shock; Hayden's standing on the other side of his door, beaming, wearing little silk pyjama shorts and a tank top. She's got a toothbrush in her hand.

"Jesus Christ," Liam breathes. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You kissed him!" she repeats gleefully.

"Why are you in my dorm? How'd you get in?" Liam asks, feeling a little scared.

"Mason let me in," Hayden says, blinking. "We wanted to be here in case Brett was a psycho." 

"Oh," Liam says. "He's not."

"Well I guessed, seeing as you kissed him," Hayden giggles.

"Remind me again," Liam says dryly, walking in and tossing his jacket on the bed. "I'd already forgotten." He slumps down onto his bed, then grunts as Hayden climbs on top of him. "Whaaaat?" he moans.

"How was it?"

Liam covers his face. "Good," he mumbles. "Great, actually."

He can practically hear her smiling. "So I don't have to hurt him?"

"Please don't. He doesn't seem to care that I'm neurotic." 

She rolls off him and pulls his arm off his face. "I don't either," she says.

"Yeah, that makes you one of maybe three people alive who doesn't think it's a problem," Liam sighs. "So... you gonna hang out here all night?"

She reaches over and picks up a grocery bag. "I bought you M&M's," she says, "and a bunch of movies."

"You can stay," he says.

~*~

"This movie is terrible."

Hayden whaps him on the top of his head lightly. "No it isn't," she scolds.

"Yes it is," Liam grumbles, shuffling so he's a little more comfortable. "It's about two people who are already fucking but can't decide if they want to be together or not. Like every other fucking movie." He's lying with his head on Hayden's stomach, and he's eaten at least three quarters of the bag of M&M's. 

"It's real life," Hayden says. "That happens so often in real life."

"I just don't get why you'd fuck someone you don't wanna be with," Liam says blankly. "Then again I haven't even screwed anyone I want to be with, so maybe I should stop being judgmental." 

She giggles. "Just watch the movie."

"Justin Timberlake isn't even hot," Liam grumbles.

"Yes he is!"

"No. He isn't." Liam sighs. "They're gonna fuck, aren't they?"

"Yep," Hayden says, eyes riveted on the TV.

"It's predictable," Liam whines.

"Oh, like every fucking superhero movie isn't? Oh, I'm Superman. I must save everyone all the time. Lois Lane isn't just a prop for my humanity. And Batman - he's even worse!" Hayden deepens her voice. "I'm Batman. I'm an agent of the night unable to cope with the emotional trauma of losing my parents. I'm chaotic neutral because I don't kill people, but I'll let them die."

Liam laughs and rolls onto his back so he can look at her. "Batman isn't chaotic neutral," he says. "He's chaotic good. Also, if I were straight, I would marry you."

"Yeah right. You'd get sick of me making fun of your favourite stuff."

"No, I'd get sick of watching fucking chick flicks," Liam says, tossing some M&M's into his mouth. "The only reason I'm putting up with it is because you brought me food as a peace offering." He yawns. "Time is it?"

"Past midnight."

"Fuck me."

"You're gay, wouldn't work." 

Liam chuckles and stretches, yelping when Hayden's fingers dig into his ribs. "Fuck off!" 

She smiles at him sweetly. "Can I stay the night?"

"Sure. No walk of shame for you tomorrow morning. Staying with two gay guys and subjecting them to chick flicks."

"I don't subject Mason to them. He likes them."

Liam shrugs, standing up. "That's his baggage, not mine." 

Hayden giggles. "You know he recommended this?" she teases. "He thinks Justin Timberlake is your type."

"I'm gonna get the locks changed."

~*~

"Liam. Liam." 

Liam groans, lifting his head; he's got a face full of Hayden's thick, curly hair. "What?" he groans sleepily.

"Your phone's ringing," she says sleepily, and produces it from somewhere under her hip. "Here."

He squints at it; Brett's name flashes across the top of the screen, and Liam swipes to answer clumsily; his right arm is trapped underneath Hayden's head. "Hello?" he asks sleepily.

"Hey," Brett's voice says. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Um," Liam replies groggily. "I think so. What time is it?"

"About ten thirty."

"Fuck."

Brett laughs. "What're you doing?" 

"Nothin'," Liam yawns. "Hayden's here. She made me watch chick flicks with her." 

"You poor thing," Brett teases.

"It was pretty horri - OW!" Hayden's jerked her elbow back into his stomach. 

"What was that?"

"She's still here," Liam groans, "and apparently objects to me shit-talking her taste in movies to other people." He scowls at her; she's looking up at him with an innocent smile. "Fuck, you're evil," he mutters.

"Sorry?" Brett asks confusedly.

"No, I'm talking to her. She's evil. Not you."

"Oh," Brett laughs. "Listen, you wanna grab breakfast or something? Hayden can come if she wants." 

"You wanna come to breakfast with me and Brett?" Liam asks her.

She yawns. "No thanks. I'm still sleepy. Can I stay here?"

"Yeah. Sure. There's bread in the box." Liam stumbles out of bed. "Okay," he says to Brett. "Uh - gimme half an hour to make myself decent. Where should I meet you?" 

"There's a cafe on campus that does really cheap breakfast," Brett says. "Sage? Do you know it?"

"I've seen signs," Liam yawns, tripping over himself as he grabs a towel, shower gel, and his dorm keys before heading down the hall to the bathrooms. "So I guess I can find it." 

"Okay. See you soon," Brett says.

"Bye," Liam says, barely suppressing another yawn.

~*~  
"You look like shit," Brett chuckles.

Liam glares at him as he sits down opposite Brett. "First of all, fuck you," he says. "Second of all, I ate a whole bag of M&M's and watched a chick flick last night. Hayden fell asleep on me and I only just regained feeling in my arm."

"Hayden stayed? When did she get there?"

"She was there when I got back," Liam yawns, leaning on his hand as he peruses the menu lazily. "She fucking ambushed me."

"Did she wanna talk about boys with you?" Brett teases.

Liam kicks him under the table, then smiles when Brett pouts at him. "What should I get?"

"For a sugar hangover? Nothing with sugar in it."

"French toast it is," Liam murmurs.

"Man, you've got a real sweet tooth, huh?"

"Sugar is the easiest way to my heart, yeah." 

He hears Brett's phone vibrate once, then again two minutes later, and tilts his head. "You should answer that," he says. "Could be important."

Brett looks a little stressed. "That's why I'm not answering it."

Liam nods and butts out of it, but he listens to the next seven or so texts come through and knows, instinctively, by the expression on Brett's face - and the way he's not smiling anymore - that something's not right.

But it's not his business. So he eats his French Toast and doesn't pay attention to Brett's phone for the rest of their breakfast.


	6. Six - Bravura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that the next chapter of After The Fall AND Decibels are going to be laced with angst and sadness, this is almost pure fluff. <3

**Chapter Six - Bravura**

"He could be a drug dealer."

"He's not a fucking drug dealer," Liam sighs, irritated.

"I know. But. He could be. You know? He could be. Until he tells you he's not, he could be. Schrodinger's Cat, right? The answer could be both until you know which it is." 

Liam rubs his face. "Stop fucking with my head," he pleads Mason, who smiles. "And have you seen Breaking Bad? He's not gonna come up to me and be like, hey, look, I know we've only had two dates, but I want you to cross the border to Mexico with me. I'm a drug dealer and the DEA are after me. Wanna get Chipotle on the way?" 

"I just can't believe Mason used a physics theory to try and explain Brett's weird behaviour," Hayden says. "He's probably got a little fuckboy in him."

"He doesn't have a little fuckboy in him!" Liam splutters. "What's wrong with you guys?" 

"Every guy has a little fuckboy in them," Hayden says. "It's like the sliding scale of sexuality. Hardly anyone is a solid one or six - nobody's an angel and nobody's pure evil. Just like hardly anyone is one hundred percent gay or straight."

"I'm one hundred percent gay," Mason says. 

"You're both giving me a headache," Liam grumbles. "What do you guys really think is up with him?" 

Hayden shrugs. "Maybe he's in debt," she says.

"Maybe he's getting harassed by a stalker ex," Mason points out. 

"Maybe he's in debt with his stalker ex," Hayden muses.

"I'm never asking you guys for advice again," Liam sighs. 

Mason shrugs. "Seriously, dude? I'd just ask him."

"That's funny," Liam replies.

"He's got a point. You won't really know unless you hear it from him," Hayden points out. 

"You're funny too. Have you guys missed the part where I'm pretty much emotionally constipated? I can't just ask him." 

Hayden giggles a little. "Liam, c'mon. He's your boyfriend-"

"He's not my - whatever," Liam stutters, flustered. "We haven't put a label on it."

"He's taken you out three times, paid for your food, brings you coffee every day he knows you're working, and looks at you like you're made of gold," Hayden says. "You're his boyfriend." 

"And you stole his hoodie," Mason adds, nodding at Liam's torso.

He blushes, tugs Brett's hoodie closer to his body. "I didn't _steal_ it," he whines. "He left it here. I've been looking after it for him." It's too big for him but he doesn't care; it smells like Brett and it's soft and worn with how many times it's been washed. 

"He left it here three days ago," Hayden says.

"I'm - not gonna dispute that," Liam mumbles, getting off his stool and moving out onto the shop floor. "I'm just gonna do stock and let you gossip about me." 

They laugh, but not unkindly, and Mason claps his shoulder before leaving to stalk Corey in the sporting equipment store across the road. 

"You realise he's using the same method on Corey that worked on you?" Hayden asks. 

Liam watches Mason enter the store from his stool. "Won't work," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, Corey's even more scared of everything than I am. He makes me look confident." 

"You aren't so bad," Hayden says. "You know, Brett's been good for you... much as I really hate to admit it."

Liam smiles a little. Brett has been good for him. He's been happier, at any rate, feels a little more secure in himself. The only grey cloud to be seen is Brett's weird behaviour whenever his phone goes off. 

"Reckon if Mason's persistent enough he'll win Corey over?" Liam asks.

"Maybe. Or Corey will die of fright."

Liam turns to her, grinning. "He'll only do that if you threaten him. Have you considered that you might have to dial back on the terrifying-best-friend schtick with him? He'll probably faint if you look at him the wrong way."

"I've considered it," she huffs. "And I was only harsh on Brett because he acted like a dick at the start. I had every reason to treat him like that. Nobody gets to fuck with you like that." 

He smiles. "I know. Thanks. For, you know, safeguarding my innocence and all that."

"Anytime," she says cheerfully. "Anyway, I'm gonna go grab some lunch. Want anything?" 

"Um... you choose something," Liam says, distracted by his inventory. "Thanks."

"No problem." She heads out the door.

Liam's on his own for the next few minutes. The doorbell rings just as he's got his Sharpie between his teeth, inventory in one hand, and a box balanced on a shelf. 

"Be der in a sebond," he says thickly.

There's no reply, but he hears footsteps. He shrugs to himself, figuring that the person is one of those customers who doesn't think sales reps are actually people. 

Two strong hands grasp his waist suddenly, and he gasps, spitting his Sharpie out. 

"Whoa," Brett's voice teases. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Liam turns around slowly, being careful on his stepladder. "You did," he says weakly. "Hi."

Brett rests his chin on Liam's stomach and smiles innocently. "Hi."

Liam doesn't mind the affection; they're alone, after all. "Day off?" he asks.

"Sort of. I just finished class. Thought I'd see if you were working. I brought you lunch."

Liam turns to the window. "Hayden just-"

"I know, I saw her," Brett chuckles. "Don't worry, we aren't doubling up."

Liam smiles. "Thanks." 

"You gonna come down from there?" Brett asks. 

"I still have some stuff to put away. Then I will." He turns back to the shelf. "I could've fallen, you know. When you grabbed me."

"I grabbed you so you wouldn't fall," Brett says. His hands are on Liam's outer thighs now, thumbs massaging absently at the muscles there. "Do you really have no idea just how far you lean when you're on this thing? You're gonna fall and hurt yourself one day." 

"I'm not gonna fall," Liam replies stubbornly. "But uh, while you're there, don't let me go." 

"Wasn't gonna." 

Liam finishes his stack of CD's and climbs down from the stepladder, turning to Brett. Brett tilts his head, smiling softly, and tugs lightly at the edges of his hoodie.

"I was wondering where this went."

"You left it here the other day," Liam says sheepishly. "I was, uh-"

"Keep it. Looks good on you anyway," Brett says, then zips it all the way up to his chin and laughs when Liam bats at his hands, irritated. "Aw, c'mon, Liam. I got you food. And coffee. One of those horrible sugary things you drink." 

Liam almost salivates; he's starving, what with missing breakfast to get to his lecture on time today. "You're the best. How much do I owe you?"

"One date on Friday night," Brett says.

"Fuck, you're smooth," Liam says, rolling his eyes. "Okay, you've got your date." 

Brett beams at him. 

"Turn down the smile," Liam says weakly, knowing he's beginning to blush. "Seriously. I can't handle it when you smile like that. Your teeth are impeccably fucking white." 

If anything, Brett's grin widens; he produces Liam's lunch from his bag. "Here. You look like you're starving."

"I am," Liam mumbles. "I skipped breakfast - running late." He opens the lid of the container curiously. "What's this?" he asks. Brett's taken to bringing him something different almost every day he comes in.

"That," Brett says, "is chicken katsu over coconut rice - with optional curry powder." 

"Smells awesome," Liam says eagerly. "Seriously, it's worth missing breakfast if you do this every day."

"I dunno how you do it," Brett says, watching as Liam spears some chicken. "Stay up until four in the morning - don't look at me like that, I saw your Facebook profile this morning - and then get up and come to work and somehow not pass out from exhaustion."

"Do you remember," Liam asks, swallowing a bite of food, "how in your first semester at college they gave you a metric fuckton of work to see who would snap under the pressure and give up first?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I was turning that metric fuckton into a metric shit ton." Liam yawns just thinking about it. 

"You were probably also watching the X-Files." 

Liam winces. "Maybe." 

Brett smiles. "Well. At least you got it done, right? You'll be fine." 

"Hope so," Liam says. "Thanks for lunch."

"How long has it been since you ate proper food?" Brett asks.

"Define "proper food" for me."

"Something that isn't restaurant, takeaway or cafeteria food." 

Liam thinks for a moment. "I made myself a sandwich three days ago."

Brett shakes his head. "Jesus. So you haven't had an actual, healthy, home-cooked meal since you moved here?"

"Nope. Well, when I lived with my aunt, yeah. But not recently."

Brett smiles. "Okay. I have an idea. How about instead of going out on Friday and eating Chinese until we feel sick, I make you something at my place?"

Liam opens his mouth, stunned. "You're gonna cook for me?" 

"Yeah. If you want me to."

"That sounds really good," Liam admits gratefully. "Thank you. Should I bring anything with me?"

"Just yourself," Brett smiles. "I can show you how to cook if you want. Might not be useful in the dorms, but you mentioned maybe getting a place with Hayden and Mason at some point, and you'll be happier if you can cook then." 

"I'll learn to cook," Liam agrees. It's not like he likes living off food that's not even really food, he just doesn't have much of an option. He can't really afford "good" food, so to speak, as well as textbooks and bus fares and other stuff like that. 

"Really?"

"Mm. I mean, I'd like better food. Just hard to get to. The cafeteria is shit."

"I know," Brett says. "Maybe you can take some home."

Liam smiles over his coffee, takes a sip, and says, "Are you my boyfriend or my grandmother?"

Brett smiles widely. "Well, I'm not eighty. But I do have all the necessary parts to be a boyfriend." 

"Okay," Hayden's voice says, and Liam looks up to see her standing in the shop, looking grossed out. "I don't know what kind of weird stuff you're into, Brett, and I really don't care. But don't you dare corrupt him." 

Brett holds his hands up. "I'm not corrupting him," he explains innocently.

"Sure you aren't. Whatever... weird shit you were just talking about, don't." 

"Nothing wrong with ageplay," Brett says, grinning.

"Don't antagonise her," Liam says. "Mason's interested in someone and she can't threaten him so it'll all get dealt out on you." 

"Oh, I get special treatment, huh?" Brett asks with a smile. "You really _do_ like me."

"Your insistence on putting a positive spin on everything anyone says is annoying," Hayden gripes, but she's trying not to smile. 

Brett reaches for the coffee tray on the counter. "I brought you a coffee," he says sweetly. 

Liam grins. Brett wasn't kidding when he said he was going to win Hayden over; try as she might, it's obvious she's starting to like him, and is having less and less of a reason to actually hate him or be wary of him. Liam thinks it's pretty funny to watch her struggle to hate him.

"So when do you finish?" Brett asks with a smile.

Liam's trying not to make it obvious how much he really likes this guy - at least not around Hayden, because he knows if he does she's going to squeal about it later. "Two hours," he says. "You got something in mind?"

"Mall's open late tonight. We could hang out."

"Yeah, okay." 

Brett stays until it starts to get a little busier, and then leaves. Liam watches him as he does, noticing that Brett seems kind of tired - and his smile doesn't stick on his face as he goes, either. 

He's worried. Brett acts weirdly whenever his phone goes off. But Liam's not really sure that it's any of his business yet, and he's hesitant to ask in case it isn't. 

When he leaves the store, carrying his guitar and rustling around in his pockets for change, Brett's already outside. Liam stops.

"Did you wait this entire time?" he asks slowly.

"No," Brett chuckles. "You serious? I went home for a bit." 

"Oh." Liam falls into step with him. "Where are we going?" 

"The arcade." Brett smirks. "I'm gonna kick your ass at air hockey." 

~*~

Brett doesn't kick his ass at air hockey.

Or pool, or anything else. Liam even beats him at the stupid basketball game, managing to accumulate a ridiculous amount of tickets in the process.

"Don't you play lacrosse?" Liam chuckles. "Your hand-eye coordination is shit."

"And yours is amazing," Brett says. "Why don't you play any sports?" 

Liam shrugs, then decides, for once in his life, to just be honest. "I used to," he admits. "Lacrosse, actually. I don't anymore though. Took up boxing instead."

"Boxing, huh?" Brett tilts his head. "Guess that explains why you've got great shoulders." 

Liam feels his face heat up. "You haven't even seen my shoulders."

"I've seen enough. Enough to know they're great." 

Brett flirts with him all night. It's a strange feeling for Liam, now that he recognises it for what it is - he kind of figured the flirting would taper off once Brett had him, but it hasn't yet. He's not really sure that Brett's his boyfriend. Right now he doesn't mind what it is - they're enjoying each other's company and Liam feels, well, pretty safe if he's being honest. It's a new feeling for him, to be around someone relatively new to him and still feel secure - not like he's having heart palpitations or anything.

It feels different than hanging out with Noah. Because Noah was always pushing for a little more - a hand hold to turn into a full-blown hug, a hug into a kiss - turning an inch into a mile. And Liam was never comfortable with that in the first place.

Brett isn't pushing him. For all anyone else knows, they're just two friends killing time at the arcade. And that's fine by Liam; he doesn't need the whole world to know Brett's his date. It's enough that he knows.

"You know what I always wanted?" Brett asks.

"What?" Liam asks, hitting a mole way harder than strictly necessary and grinning when it yelps. 

"You're enjoying that way too much," Brett murmurs. "I always kinda wished I was a girl - just so that a guy would have to win me a prize at a carnival or something. I loved those huge fucking bears."

"They're cheap," Liam says. "I won one for Hayden once." 

"Hayden?" Brett asks.

"Before I came out we dated," Liam explains. "Not for very long. Obviously. Now she's one of my best friends." 

"How'd she feel when you came out to her?" Brett asks.

Liam shrugs. "She was cool with it. I mean - yeah, obviously, but she said she was relieved. That it meant there wasn't anything wrong with her or anything, and it was just that I physically couldn't be attracted to her." 

"I don't know any straight male who wouldn't be," Brett says. 

"You should tell her that. Win her favour." Liam succeeds in hitting two moles at once; the game shrieks, and a string of tickets spill out. "Hell yeah!"

"Competitive, huh?" Brett asks, smiling.

"Yeah. I'm, uh, the worst person to play any kind of co-op game with." Liam winces. "Just ask Mason." With that, he collects all his tickets. He's got a huge bundle of them by now; there are some kids watching him enviously.

"How much time do you spend here?" Brett asks.

"None. But Mason and I used to be at the arcade in our hometown all the fucking time. We got really good." Liam counts the tickets, roughly, then looks towards the prize stall. He grins to himself. "Find another game?"

"Why, so you can kick my ass again?" Brett grumbles, but leaves.

Liam hurries over to the counter, puts the tickets down, and says, "Can I have the giant purple gorilla?" 

She smiles at him and gets it down, taking all the tickets in return. The gorilla's almost as big as he is; he carries it over to Brett and uses the gorilla's hand to tap his arm.

Brett turns around, then steps back, blinking. "Jesus."

Liam peers over the gorilla's shoulder, grinning. "Hi." 

Brett's starting to smile. "What's this?"

"The giant stuffed animal you were never won as a teenager." 

There's a pause, and then there's a huge smile spreading delightedly over Brett's face. "You won me a giant stuffed animal?"

"Mhm. Um, I can't really see over him, though, so-"

"Hold still." Brett takes his phone out. "I need a picture." 

Liam can't help but smile as Brett snaps a photo of him - he's never even thought before that someone would deem him picture-worthy other than his parents. "I hope the purple gorilla was a good choice," he says, passing it off to Brett.

"It was the best choice," Brett says happily. "This is fucking awesome." 

Liam's sort of in love with the way Brett doesn't even notice, let alone care about the people who stare at him as they leave; he's wrapped up in proclaiming how awesome the gorilla is. Brett doesn't give a single fuck about what anyone's thinking, and it's so obvious that Liam finds himself laughing right along and not caring either. He's never really known anyone quite like Brett before, he doesn't think - all stupidly tall and gangly with long arms and legs and perfect white teeth and a warm, happy smile. He might be tall and muscular, but he's clearly soft and open and friendly, and Liam likes that about him. Like he's some sort of gentle giant. 

"I can't believe you won me a giant gorilla. You're the best. This is the best date ever."

Liam smiles a little bashfully. "Really?"

"I mean it. Nobody, in my entire life, has won me a stuffed animal. I just want my life to be like a movie. A good one, though, with a happy ending. None of that Notebook shit."

"That was sort of happy," Liam says. "I mean they died together."

"How the fuck is that happy, Liam? Also, you've seen it?"

"Hayden made me watch it." 

"Oh, sure. Hayden made you watch it. Right. Do you consider the Titanic to be a happy ending, too?"

"No. Jack would've fit on that fucking door if Rose had just shuffled the fuck over and stopped professing her undying love for him."

"... I'm never asking you anything about movies again. Talk about taking it too hard."

" _There was room on that door!_ "

They've reached Brett's car; he opens the back door to put the gorilla inside. In a rare moment of goofiness, Liam says, "Don't forget his seatbelt."

Brett laughs loudly, humours him, and straps the gorilla in. "So," he says, settling into the car and starting the ignition, "if you don't mind me asking - how'd you tell Hayden you were gay?"

"I don't mind you asking." Liam smiles ruefully at the memory. "I um, she - well, okay, you can't tell her you know this, alright? But she was trying to get me hard and it wasn't working and she was really upset and thought it was her and I just kind of - well, I didn't like seeing her cry and my pants were down and it couldn't have gotten worse so I just told her I was gay. Right there."

"Jesus, Liam. You told her you were gay while she was trying to jerk you off?"

Liam winces. "She... was trying to give me head, actually."

"And she's still your friend?"

"Yeah."

"Keep her," Brett advises. "If her boyfriend telling her he's gay while she's giving him head doesn't turn her off, nothing will."

Liam smiles, then sneezes.

"You getting sick?"

"Probably," Liam says, sniffling. "I haven't been sick since I got here and everyone around me is dropping like flies."

"Well, let me know if you need anything," Brett says. "I can bring you some medicine if you don't have any."

"Pretty sure Mason used it all. Thanks." 

Brett drops Liam off at the dorms, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before heading home to get some assignments done. Liam heads upstairs, feeling pleasantly tired and glowing from the day; it was a good one, and nothing bad happened. 

When he enters, Hayden and Mason are both there; they look up. He smiles at them sleepily. 

"Where were you?" Mason asks.

"He was on a date with Brett," Hayden says, grinning widely. "How was it?"

Just then, Liam's phone goes off; he takes it out and opens the picture Brett's send him.

It's him, holding up the purple gorilla and smiling from behind it. Hayden makes a squealing noise when she sees it.

"Did he win you a stuffed animal?!" 

"I won it for him," Liam chuckles.

**From** : Brett Talbot, 9:12PM  
New lockscreen background?

"He's making you his lockscreen background," Mason says gleefully. "Dude, you are in. You are so in. Or he's in, whichever you prefer."

Liam ignores that last bit, grinning stupidly at his phone. He taps a quick message back before dumping his phone on his desk and collapsing onto his bed with Hayden.

**To** : Brett Talbot, 9:14PM  
Who's that guy? He's pretty hot. Not sure I can compete with that :/

"You know, you better get some sleep," Mason teases him. "Keep it up and you'll be sleeping with him by next week."

Liam flips him off, but he's smiling as he drifts off, fully clothed, with Hayden's fingers carding through his hair.

~*~

The next day sees Liam with a distinct croak to his voice and a headache.

He decides, after class, that he's gonna bite the bullet and take the bus to the chemist's - hopefully stock up on some cold or flu medicine before he gets really bad, which he's sure he will. Checking his bank account makes him want to cry, but at least he can just forego eating out for the week and get some pills and still make ends meet. He knows some people aren't in the same boat. Most, actually.

There's no chemist at the mall he works at, so he hops on a different bus and tries not to think about how bad his headache is on the way there.

It's a relief to get off; he goes into the chemist and spends almost half an hour making sure none of the medications will interact badly with his Risperdal. He has to be careful with that; his mom knows, but he never really bothered to learn until he had an adverse reaction to some off-brand ibuprofen a couple of weeks ago. He felt dizzy most of the day and almost fainted every time he stood up; it was a pretty shitty experience. 

With his medicine in hand - cold and flu tablets, Tylenol, and vitamin C tablets - he heads back out. It's cold; he wonders if he's coming down with a fever as soon as he steps out. 

"Liam?"

He turns around, blinking. Brett's staring at him - wearing black jeans and t-shirt and a green apron. This must be where he works. 

"Hi," Liam says.

"What's that?" Brett asks concernedly, gesturing at the pharmacy bag.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm starting a drug cartel. I'm the next Walter White."

"If anything you're the next Jesse Pinkman," Brett says, smiling fondly. "Feeling shitty?"

"Mm." Liam wanders over. "Think it got worse overnight. My head's killing me."

Brett gestures to his cafe - the symbol on his apron matches it. "You wanna come in and sit down?" he asks. "I finish in about half an hour. I could drive you back to your dorm?"

"That's really far-"

"It's not that far," Brett says quickly. "I'm happy to."

"Okay," Liam says, relieved, as he follows Brett into the cafe. "Thanks. The bus was gonna suck."

"I know." Brett motions to a table, then brings Liam a glass of water. "Here. Take your drugs, Walter White." 

Liam takes his pills, watching as Brett works around the cafe - soon enough, he's speaking to his boss and then taking his apron off. He smiles at Liam.

"You look better."

The headache's mostly gone now; he just feels sort of fatigued. "Yeah. I feel better." 

"Good."

When they get there, Brett has to park a little while away; Liam's about to open his door when Brett stops him.

"Liam... you can knock me back on this, if you want," Brett says hesitantly, "so don't feel pressured to say yes, but... do you wanna stay the night at my place tomorrow night? After dinner?" 

Liam feels almost the whole spectrum of human emotion in that moment; he's excited and flattered but he's also really nervous and a tiny bit scared, worried that "stay the night" means what Noah wanted it to mean. He wants that with Brett, he really does - but not this soon. 

Before he can answer, Brett starts talking again. "Like I said, you don't have to," he says hurriedly. "Just - you've been sort of sniffly and you sound like you're getting a cold, and the dorms are bad for that. And we won't do anything. Unless you want to."

That's all Liam needed to hear to make his mind up. "Okay," he says with a small smile. "Yeah. I'll stay the night. I'm sure your couch is comfier than the dorm beds anyway."

Brett tilts his head. "You don't have to sleep on the couch," he says gently. "I have a queen bed."

"Oh, cool," Liam says, grinning. " _You_ can sleep on the couch."

Brett laughs. "Come on. I'll walk you up. You want some company?"

"I'm probably gonna sleep," Liam admits. "Thanks though."

"No worries. You could use the rest - you look tired." Brett's thumb strokes Liam's cheek briefly, an oddly intimate, yet innocent gesture of affection. "Let's go."

They're walking across campus slowly - they're joking a little, shoving each other around - when Liam hears someone call his name.

When he turns, it's to see Noah walking towards him; his stomach promptly drops out of his stomach and right through the ground. "Hi," he says.

Noah stops, looks at Brett. Liam dreads the look of realisation that ultimately spreads across his face. "Who's... this?"

"Brett," Brett says patiently. 

"You're the guy from the music store." He turns to Liam. "Just a customer?"

"He was just a customer," Liam says defensively.

"Uh huh. Is this why you broke it off?" 

"I broke it off because you were kind of an asshole about something that I'd already told you about," Liam says incredulously. "It's none of your damn business who I'm with or not with now, Noah." 

"Oh, come on, Liam, I didn't - and it's clearly not true anyway, right?" Noah pleads. "You're obviously not scared around him."

"Liam, what's going on?" Brett asks quietly.

"Fucked if I know," Liam replies exhaustedly. "Look, Noah, I'm sick and I really want to go home and sleep. I'll see you later." 

He turns to leave, trusting that Brett will follow him; he does. "What was that all about?" he asks.

Liam waves him off tiredly. "I might tell you later," he says. "For now I just wanna go home and crawl into a hole and maybe die a little."

"Die a little?" Brett teases him gently. "How exactly does one die a little?" 

"I'll work it out," Liam says.

They spend the rest of the walk back to Liam's dorm in relative silence; eventually, they mount the last stair and stop outside his dorm room door. There are a few notes on it from other guys in the hall - all the doors are shut for once. Usually there's at least a few open, although it's far less social than the girls' dorms.

"Thanks for bringing me home," Liam says gratefully.

"No problem," Brett says. He kisses Liam's forehead gently. "Feel better, okay? Text me tonight. Let me know you're okay."

Liam smiles a little. "It's just a cold, Brett."

"I know. Humour me." 

"Liam?"

"What now?" Liam groans, but when he turns it's just Hayden. She looks a little bemused.

"Hey, Hayds."

"Hi." Her eyes rake over him. "Liam, you look terrible."

"Thanks. I woke up like this." 

She looks to Brett. "What're you doing here?"

"I drove him home," Brett explains. "My parking is gonna expire though." He kisses Liam's cheek. "Text me?"

"I will. Bye." He watches Brett go. "I've got a cold," he sniffles to Hayden. "Don't get too close."

She enters when he opens his door. "Want some company?"

He smiles.

~*~

Hayden stays with him until Mason gets back - she makes him a mug of tea and strokes his hair gently while they watch a movie. It's nice. Soothing. Liam knows what to expect with her.

He has some soup they've got lying around because he hates the cafeteria food and takes some of the cold and flu medicine before he sleeps, hoping to head it off before it gets really bad. He does make sure to message Brett - thanking him for bringing him home - before drifting off.

When he wakes up, Mason's running late for class but he's made Liam some coffee and tells him to eat something that isn't Reese's peanut butter cups for breakfast. Liam watches him leave sleepily, sips on his coffee, and basks in the knowledge that he doesn't have work today - and that skipping his evening lecture won't kill him. 

He takes out his phone and shoots a text to Brett, vaguely contemplating getting in the shower afterwards. He doesn't particularly feel like sacrificing the warmth of his bed, though, and he can see condensation on the windows from how fucking cold it is outside. The snow has almost stopped, but it's still bitter outside.

**To** : Brett Talbot, 9:39AM  
So I survived the night

It takes seeing the timestamp on the text message for him to realise that he slept from eight in the evening until nine in the morning; he only ever sleeps like that when he's sick. He remembers passing out after Hayden coaxed him into brushing his teeth and at least taking his jeans off. 

He nibbles unenthusiastically at a piece of bread while he watches How To Get Away With Murder - Mason suggested it, and after five minutes of the first episode, he's totally hooked. It doesn't hurt that the cast are all sinfully hot. 

Two hours later, he still hasn't heard back from Brett. It's a little strange - even when he's at work, Brett usually makes the time to message him back, even if it's just a smiley face to acknowledge Liam messaged him. 

He brushes his teeth in the small sink in their dorm room, but he's still feeling shivery and like anything, at any moment, could make him worse, so he foregoes showering and slips back into bed. A text from Hayden says she'll come round when her shift is done, but that's not for hours yet.

Liam doesn't mind. He likes being on his own, really - he grew up like that anyway and he's used to it. Not so used to be around people almost 24/7 - even if they are just Mason and Hayden, who he's known for most of his life. 

There's a knock on his door around midday. He'd been dozing off watching TV, and the noise startles him enough to make him sit up quickly, blinking in confusion. 

"Liam?" a voice calls softly. "It's just me."

Brett, Liam realises as he stumbles over to the door and opens it. Brett's standing there, smelling and looking amazing and carrying a plastic bag.

"Hi," Liam croaks. He hasn't talked all day and his voice is rough from disuse.

"Hey." Brett smiles. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Liam says, yawning before standing back to let Brett in. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to check on you," Brett admits. "And I brought you some food because I know you didn't go down to the cafeteria this morning - bread isn't a food group." 

"How do you know I didn't...?" Liam trails off at Brett's amused expression; Liam makes no secret of the fact that he hates the cafeteria food and would rather go hungry than have to eat it. "Yeah. Okay. Um, thanks, you didn't have to - isn't feeding me expensive?" 

"Not when I make it myself," Brett says. "You got anywhere we can eat?"

"I usually eat at the desk," Liam says sheepishly. 

"Yeah. Damn, I'd forgotten how fucking small these places are. Cool setup, though." He gestures at Liam's desk, which has his PlayStation and TV set up on the top shelf. "I never would've thought of that." 

"Mm. You get creative when you don't have much to work with. Mason and I can't wait to get out of here." 

"Speaking of Mason - what the hell happened to his bed?" Brett asks, gesturing at the wild tangle of blankets, clothes and books on Mason's mattress. "Looks like a truck of his belongings exploded."

"It always looks like that," Liam says. "He's really smart but he's also really disorganised. He falls asleep reading a lot and forgets to put laundry away and it all gets mixed up together. It never spreads onto my side though."

"Yeah, yours looks marginally better," Brett teases. "You making a nest?"

"Knock it all you want," Liam says, coughing a little. "It's fucking warm."

"Yeah, looks like it. And comfy." Brett puts the food down on Liam's desk. "Hungry?"

"Um..." He's not really. "I can eat. I don't feel sick or anything." 

"Cool." 

They sit there for a little while as Liam makes his way through some scrambled eggs; Brett chatters to him quietly, and Liam doesn't ask why he never responded to Liam's text. It doesn't matter, really; Brett's here, and he's being pretty much the best person ever and feeding him.

He feels better once he's actually eaten something substantial. "Thanks for the food," he says. "I probably wouldn't have eaten anything."

"I know," Brett says, amused. "How many days in a row have you worn that hoodie, Liam?" 

Liam winces, pulling Brett's hoodie close to his body. "I dunno," he mumbles defensively.

Brett laughs. "Hey. I don't care if you wear my clothes. Here." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a different hoodie - a grey one this time - and passes it to Liam. "I'll trade you. Take that one home and wash it." 

"You don't have to-"

"All your laundry is over there," Brett says pointedly - Liam guesses he's talking over the overflowing laundry basket in the corner. He winces.

"I... haven't had time?" 

Brett chuckles. "Doesn't matter. You still coming over tonight?"

Liam had actually sort of forgotten, he's been sleeping so much. "Yeah," he says. "If that's okay."

"You don't feel sick or anything? I don't want you to do it if you don't want to."

"I'm okay," Liam says honestly. "I feel a lot better than yesterday. I'll bring all my drugs with me in case though."

"We can go now if you want," Brett offers. "You'll be warmer there."

"Sure. I have to shower, though." He turns to his laundry basket. "And I might do that as well," he sighs. "Is that okay?"

"Course."

Brett's still at his desk when Liam gets back from throwing his clothes in the washing machine and showering. "You know you can sit somewhere else, right?" he asks, scrubbing the towel over his head and shivering violently until he manages to get a shirt on.

"Like where?"

"My nest, or whatever you call it," Liam says dryly.

"It does look warm," Brett murmurs. "I'm tempted."

"Go ahead." Liam slumps down next to the wall, pulling one of the pillows behind his back. "We can play something if you want."

"Sure. What've you got?" 

Brett chooses Outlast, and admits to Liam within the first five minutes of the game that he isn't good with horror. Liam sniggers, because Brett's in for one hell of a ride if he's scared of this stuff. It freaked Liam out, and he's not easily spooked like that.

"So is this what you do on days off?" Brett asks.

"Not usually," Liam says. "Sometimes."

"What do you do in your spare time if you aren't being a typical eighteen year old male obsessed with video games?" Brett teases.

Liam laughs distractedly. Brett's abandoned the controller to him; he's navigating the labyrinth of tunnels easily. "I go running. Or boxing. Play guitar. Sometimes when I feel really productive I even study."

"You ever get out of here?"

"I'm a hermit," Liam says, and Brett smiles. "I do, just not when everyone else does. Most of the time I'm with Hayden or Mason - sometimes I go out with the other guys on this floor, but not much."

"Why not? You aren't comfortable?"

"It's not that, really," Liam shrugs. "I like them fine until they start drinking. Then it gets boring."

Brett turns his head to look at Liam; he's slumped down a little lower than him on the bed, face level with Liam's neck. "Boring?" he asks. "How come?"

"I don't drink," Liam says.

Brett raises his eyebrows. "At all?"

"Nope." 

"Mind if I ask why?"

Liam shrugs. There's a variety of reasons - his dad was a violent alcoholic and he's not keen on ending up like that, it interacts badly with his Risperdal, it tastes bad, and knowing Liam and all his neuroses, he'd start to use it as a coping method pretty quickly. "Just not my thing." 

"Well, it's not like you're legal anyway. Guess it saves you the trouble of trying to get it in the first place, right?" 

"And money," Liam points out. 

The timer on his phone goes off; his laundry's done. He leaves the room, puts it in the dryer for about half an hour, and goes back into his dorm room to find Brett cowering on the bed, the game paused.

"You okay there?" Liam asks.

"I tried playing and this huge naked guy started chasing me," Brett moans.

"Oh yeah. That's Chris. He's not half as fucked up as some of the other shit in this game." Liam grabs his duffel bag from beneath the bed and starts throwing stuff into it; he can finish packing when his laundry is done. 

He's grateful for the toiletries bag his grandma got him before he moved away; it's useful for hiding his Risperdal in. He throws in the bottle, the syringe, his contact solution, and his contacts before moving onto his toothbrush and comb. He has to search high and low for his deodorant - it's under his bed for whatever reason - and finds his hair gel lurking up on the top shelf of his desk.

"How fucked up is it that I'm nostalgic over my parents' bathroom?" he asks Brett. Brett smiles.

"You can use mine."

"That's so romantic." He finds his glasses and glasses case too. Brett watches him.

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"I have them. I use contacts most of the time. They're just not good for running or boxing or even working."

Brett smiles. "I bet they look cute on you."

"Shut up," Liam grumbles, but Brett only smiles wider. "I only really need them for reading anyway. I've got crystal clear vision as long as it's more than three feet away from me." 

Brett sits up, abandoning the controller. "Show me," he says with a smile.

"Show you what?"

"What they look like on you."

Liam blushes, but he takes his glasses out and puts them on. Brett sits back, the grin still on his face.

"What?" Liam mumbles, embarrassed.

"You look like a hot nerd." 

"Well, I dunno about the hot part, but I am a nerd," Liam says.

"You're pretty hot. Someone has to have told you that before now."

Liam shrugs self-consciously. He's heard it, but he doesn't really believe he's anything special or anything different from any other guy out there. Blue eyes, perpetually half-tanned skin, brown hair - well, at the moment, anyway. He wanted something else, but his parents wouldn't let him put a bright blue streak of colour in it. 

Brett seems to know he doesn't like this topic. "Need help packing?"

"Nah, I'm okay." He grabs his laptop, its charger, his phone charger, and some of his textbooks. He still has to study. 

By the time he's finished, so is his laundry; he goes to collect it and tosses in what he needs. Brett stands up when he's done.

"Cool," he says, smiling. "Let's go." 

~*~

Brett parks in the underground carpark and leads Liam up to the elevator. This part, at least, is familiar, although last time Liam had a very drunk, very uncooperative Brett on his hands.

Brett unlocks the front door when they get there, glances around, and says, "Pete's not here."

"How can you tell?"

Brett points to the shoe rack on the ground - there are two empty spots. "His shoes aren't here."

"A shoe rack? You might as well be married." Liam leans down to untie his and take them off, then steps onto the hardwood floor and watches as Brett turns to him, smiling.

"So, welcome," Brett says, spreading his arms, "to our humble abode."

Liam smiles. The living room is filled with light, and it's not exactly spacious - the huge couch and coffee table takes up most of the room - but it's bigger than what he and Mason have. It's nice to be here during the daytime. There are even potted plants lined up along the windowsill - and they're alive, which is even more impressive. 

"I like it," he says. "Especially the Batman stuff."

"That's Pete's, actually, but I'll take credit now that I know you think it's cool," Brett teases. 

There's a jingling sound, then a loud meow. A huge black cat appears in the hallway, making more noise than Liam's ever heard a cat make.

"You have pets!" he says, nothing less than delighted.

"Is that okay? Are you allergic?" Brett worries.

Liam leans down, strokes the cat, and, when it rubs against his legs and meows happily, picks it up. The cat pushes its face against Liam's chin, purring loudly.

"I love animals," Liam says cheerfully. "What's his name?"

"Bruce Lee," Brett says. 

"What?" Liam laughs, kissing the cat's face.

"We didn't name him," Brett explains. "His owner was moving and couldn't take him with her. Pete knew her. So we took him on. He was already named Bruce Lee when we got him." Brett's smiling. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you love animals, huh?"

"Nope." Liam closes his eyes happily when Bruce rubs his face and neck, digging his claws into Liam's shoulder and arm. "I'm more of a dog person, but this cat might as well be a dog." 

"He thinks he's a dog," Brett confirms. "Are you ever going to put him down?"

"No. I'm taking him home with me." Liam kisses the cat's face again. "He's adorable."

"He's not the only one," Brett teases, ruffling Liam's hair. "Want something to eat?"

"Yes please," Liam says, following Brett to the kitchen. "Do you have cat treats?"

"Are you going to trade me for my cat?"

"I mean, maybe. I can't make any promises." He kisses Bruce's ear. "Sorry about kissing him more than I've kissed you so far, though."

Brett grins. "We can fix that, you know."

Bruce squirms, so Liam lets him go. "That sounds promising." He takes out a bunch of stuff from the fridge. "Hey, what was the deal with Noah yesterday?" 

"Oh." Liam groans and rubs his face. "Well, the reason I called it off - I don't think we were even really a thing, but I think he did - was because he was... I dunno. I'd told him before I wasn't good with PDA, and that I'd only been out two months or so - at that stage - and that I was still kind of... not ashamed, or even really scared, but worried about it."

"Sounds pretty reasonable to me," Brett says, nodding along. "Cheese?"

"Yes please. Anyway, the reason he kissed me in front of you was because you were, and I quote, "all over me". I don't like stuff like that. I told him, and he said that being scared was letting "them" win, and that I can't be like that forever."

Brett's lips purse together in an angry line. "That's a pretty fucking shitty thing to say to someone," he says brusquely. "I hope you didn't listen." 

Liam shrugs. "I tried not to. I still think about it a lot." 

Instead of telling him not to and that it's ridiculous to worry, Brett nods sympathetically. "I think I would too," he says. "For the record, there's nothing wrong with being worried about it, or even scared, as long as you don't let it rule your life." 

Liam appreciates that, even if he doesn't know how to believe it. "It was probably kind of my fault," he says sheepishly. "I mean I-"

"It sounds like he was pressuring you," Brett says quietly.

Liam shrugs. "Yeah. He was a bit. He's right though. I am scared of everything."

"That isn't your fault," Brett says heatedly. "I knew that right from the start and I knew I was going to have to be careful about how I acted because you wouldn't say no to anything. It's not hard to have basic human respect for people."

Liam looks up at him. "You knew that?"

Brett sighs and looks at him. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I knew that. Pretty much as soon as we started talking a little more, I realised you were sort of timid. I mean, that's why I didn't straight-up ask you out. I had a feeling you might be gay, or at least bi - but I could tell you didn't want other people to know that."

"Do you think I'm like this because of being gay?" Liam asks hesitantly.

Brett shrugs. "No," he says simply. "I think you'd probably be like that anyway. Whatever "that" is, anyway - you say it like it's a problem. I like that you're kind of quiet." He smiles as he puts a sandwich in front of Liam. "Makes it seem like you actually think before you speak. Not a skill a lot of people have mastered."

"I don't talk a lot because I'm shy and nervous and kind of neurotic," Liam says. "But I'm glad it made me seem thoughtful."

Brett smiles. "Eat your sandwich." 

Liam does; it's pretty good, as far as sandwiches go, and it actually has meat and vegetables in it. He watches Brett as he eats. 

"How'd you tell your parents?" he asks. 

"That I'm bi?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't," Brett says. "I just brought a guy home once as a date. Didn't tell them anything. Two months later I brought a girl home. I think we talked about it at some point, but my mom refused to let it be a big deal and refused to let my dad make it a big deal."

"That's cool," Liam says.

"You?"

"Told Mom first," he says, shrugging. "Then my stepdad. A day later I found Mom bawling her eyes out in the living room - she somehow ended up reading about hate crimes and suicide rates and AIDS and all this other really fucking depressing stuff and thought I was next. Kept telling me to be careful. And to always use a condom, which is kind of funny, because she never told me to use a condom when I was with Hayden." 

"If it's any help to you or your mom," Brett says, "I've lived here most of my life and never heard of a hate crime happening here. At least not on campus." 

That does actually help; Liam smiles and makes a note to text his mom that later. That's when he remembers that he hasn't told her that things ended with Noah or began with Brett. 

"I'm the worst son in the world," he groans.

"What?" Brett asks.

"I haven't called her in ages. She probably thinks I'm dead."

"Call her tonight. I'll say hello."

"I'm not sure how well she's going to handle the fact that you're twenty one," Liam says ruefully. "She didn't even like that Noah was a year older than me. She probably thinks you'll try to get me drunk or high or that you're using me for sex."

"You know I'm twenty one?"

"I have you on Facebook, dude."

"Why's she think that anyway?"

"She's protective," Liam says evasively. Truth be told, ever since his dad got put in jail for abusing them both, she's been a textbook case of a helicopter parent - Liam thinks she was trying to make up for the fact that he got beaten up as a kid. But he doesn't really blame her. Not anymore, anyway. He used to, but now he knows better - about the cycle of abuse, that she endured it for years longer than he did, that she was essentially powerless to stop it or leave. 

It's the reason he started his course in the first place. He doesn't want it to happen to anyone else. He might've asked Brett if his temperament was due to his sexuality, but truth be told, deep down, he knows it can largely be attributed to the abuse he went through as a kid. Not that he likes to think about that. In fact, outside of therapy, he tries very, very hard not to. 

"Sounds like a good mom," Brett says thickly.

"She is." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, we butted heads while I was growing up a bit, but we love each other. I'm her only kid." 

"I have two siblings," Brett says. "Lori and Nate. She's twelve and he's three." 

"Do you get to see them much?"

"Yeah, I think I mentioned that my family lives about forty five minutes away. I spend the night when I can. Like, I'm twenty one, but my bedroom's exactly how they left it. I just don't hide vodka under the mattress anymore."

Liam smiles hesitantly, but the mention of alcohol makes him uneasy. That, along with Pete mentioning that Brett gets drunk at least fairly regularly, has Liam wondering if he'll be able to do this - he can't drink and wouldn't anyway. He hopes it's not as serious as he's assuming. He could ask, but... it seems kind of rude to ask the guy he's been dating less than a month if he's an alcoholic.

"So," Brett says, standing up. "House tour?"

"Sure." Liam takes his plate to the sink, then follows Brett down the hallway.

"Bathroom," Brett says, pointing to the end of the hall. "We have another toilet too, near the front door. Pete's room is through there. And this is my room."

Brett's room is pretty cool; the bed's huge, covered with a dark grey duvet and rumpled plaid sheets - they look like they're probably flannel, too. There's a TV across from his bed, bookshelves overflowing with books, and a display unit with dozens of different cameras and camera lenses on them.

Liam approaches it curiously. "This is cool," he says. "Are you into photography?"

"Yeah. I'm not all that great, but I enjoy it. My mom got me started when I was a kid." Brett points at the wall above the bed. "Those are some of my better ones." 

Liam kneels on the bed, smiling as he takes in the array of photos - friends and family, Bruce Lee, Pete. Some of the college campus, and a different one Liam doesn't recognise - Brett's old college, probably. 

"These are cool," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I bet you never have to pay for a photographer at events, either." 

Brett chuckles. "Sometimes. You wanna grab your stuff? Bring it in here?"

"Sure." Liam left his stuff by the front door; he heads down the hallway to go get it, grinning when Bruce - who was curled at the end of Brett's bed - comes running after him, purring happily. 

"He likes you," Brett says. 

"Good. The feeling's mutual."

Brett's hand touches his elbow; he turns around, sees the solid wall of Brett's chest right in front of him, and blinks, looking up. Brett's looking down at him softly, eyes flicking over Liam's face.

"Are you feeling better?"

Liam hasn't even thought about his stupid cold. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks."

"I'm glad you decided to stay," Brett says quietly. "I was hoping you would when I asked, but I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

Liam's struck then by just how lucky he really is that Brett's already taking care of him so well - they're not even together, officially, but Brett's been making sure he's eating alright and came to see him and drove him home, and Liam's not really used to any of that. 

He leans up and kisses Brett, surprised by how many sparks seem to ignite with the action. Brett presses into him eagerly, almost desperately, like he's been wanting this for ages. Maybe he has been and Liam wasn't paying attention. 

Brett pulls Liam's lower lip into his mouth, and Liam gasps before he can control himself - that's never happened before. Hayden never kissed him like this, and neither did Noah - like they were drowning and the only way to get air was to breathe in Liam's. 

Brett's hand cups the back of his neck and tilts it so he's got a better angle, his other holding the very slight curve of Liam's waist. Liam shivers helplessly, then starts backing Brett towards the couch. The angle is pretty bad for his neck.

He gets Brett's legs against the couch and gives him a little push; Brett flops down, on his back, onto the chaise part. Liam promptly crawls up on top of him, his thighs either side of Brett's hips, and leans back down to kiss him.

"Liam, Liam," Brett pants. "Wait."

Liam sits up - Brett's thighs are against his back. "What?" he asks.

"Is this okay?"

Liam frowns. "Dude, I'm on top of you," he says. "Relax and stop cockblocking yourself. And me." 

Brett grins. "Okay." With that, he tugs Liam back down by his neck, slotting their lips together and breathing harshly against him. His thighs are still upright, keeping Liam where he is, straddling Brett with his legs on either side of his hips. 

He feels Brett's hands on his outer thighs, gripping him hard through his jeans, and then sliding up. Brett's hands are hot and callused from weightlifting, and they're big - all of Brett is bigger than Liam, but his hands, when they grasp Liam's waist, are deliciously large against his skin. 

"Liam," Brett groans. "I thought you hadn't done this before."

"I haven't." Liam straightens up as Brett moves like he's sitting up. "I'm just doing what feels good."

"I like you," Brett murmurs, and with that, he's stripping his shirt off over his head.

Liam's mouth goes dry; Brett's got smooth, flawless skin, a hairless chest, and tight, muscular shoulders and arms. He's incredibly tapered at the waist - there's a much more distinguishable V-shape to his torso than Liam's, who's much stockier. Brett's so fucking beautiful Liam could probably come right there.

"Like what you see?" Brett asks, smirking.

Liam nods breathlessly.

"Wow, I've rendered you speechless." With that, Brett's arm slides around his waist, and he's flipping them until Liam's pressed back into the couch, Brett settling between his open thighs. 

"Tell me to back off and I will," Brett says.

"I don't want you to back off," Liam says breathlessly, tugging Brett by his neck. "Fuck, come back here." 

Brett grins and settles against him, and Liam bites back a moan as Brett's weight bears down on him, hot and heavy and incredibly, unmistakably male. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip before Brett leans down and licks at the marks he leaves, then slides his tongue into Liam's mouth.

Liam doesn't even stop to think before grabbing Brett's waist and neck and returning the gesture, opening his mouth and letting Brett in. He might not be very experienced, but he's had his fair share of kissing - mostly with Hayden when they were dating - and this is something he knows how to do. 

"Liam," Brett groans, and Liam waits for him to say something else, but it never happens. Instead, Brett's hands are toying with the hem of Liam's shirt.

"What're you waiting for?" Liam whispers.

The pads of Brett's fingers are even hotter with no barrier of cotton separating them from Liam's skin, and despite the heat of them, Liam's skin erupts into shivers as Brett's hands begin to slide up his torso. 

"You've got awesome skin," Brett murmurs, and then his thumbs make contact with Liam's nipples and Liam's brain short-circuits on the pleasure; he arches his chest a little, hoping and praying that Brett keeps playing with them.

"Oh, right there, huh?" Brett murmurs. "Okay." 

His thumbs push up, then slide down a little before rubbing the peaked nubs of Liam's nipples, teasing with how fucking gentle and soft the motion is. He keeps that up for a few seconds before pressing down.

Liam makes a strange, high-pitched noise in the back of his throat somewhere, and only gets a glimpse of Brett's grin before his eyes are fluttering shut of their own accord. "That feels so good," he says desperately, hoping the words encourage Brett to keep going. 

"Man, if this is how you respond to nipple play, I can't wait to get to the rest of you," Brett murmurs. 

"Keep doing that and you won't have to wait long," Liam moans. 

"Yeah?" Brett murmurs. "Yeah, you don't exactly look-"

The front door clicks, and before Brett can do any more than yank his hands out of Liam's shirt, it swings open to reveal his roommate, Pete, in the doorway.

"Yo," Pete says tiredly. "So I got the bread but the fucking butcher is closed for some reason, and-"

He looks up and stops in his tracks. Liam's shirt might be on, unlike Brett's, but it's hiked up around his chest and his hair is crazy and his face and neck red from Brett's beard burn. Plus, well, he's still sort of got Brett between his legs.

"You could've told me you were gonna defile a teenager on the couch before I came home," Pete says. "Just, you know, a heads-up would've sufficed. Hey Pete, knock before you enter. I have an eighteen year old sprawled out underneath me, and he's barely decent." He waves. "Hi, Liam." 

"Hi," Liam whispers, mortified. 

"I thought you were working until much later," Brett says, who's made absolutely no move to put his shirt back on or let Liam up. "No meat? Guess we aren't having stir fry tonight."

"I got some," Pete says, holding up a bag. "Just had to go somewhere different. It's fucking crazy around this time, dude. Fucking teenagers everywhere." He looks at Liam. "No offence."

"None taken," Liam mumbles. He's pulled one of the many throw pillows scattered on the couch over his face, attempting to hide the blushing. 

"Did you get butter?" Brett asks. 

Liam can't believe he's pinned on a couch, underneath a guy three years older than him, with his shirt up around his chest, listening to said guy talk to his roommate about the fucking groceries. This is too fucking surreal.

"Yeah. I'll just leave this stuff here." Pete puts it all on the counter. "Alright. I'm just gonna leave and pretend I didn't see this. Have fun." 

With that, he exits the room; Liam hears a door shut down the hallway.

There's a slight tug on the pillow, and Brett pulls it down enough to peer at Liam, smiling. "You look like a fire hydrant," he giggles.

Liam swings the pillow into his face. "Fuck you."

"Aw, Liam. Cutest fire hydrant ever." Brett tugs his shirt back down; he's still smiling. "Sorry. I guess... we probably should've taken this to the bedroom, huh?" 

"Yeah, sorry," Liam says. "I don't usually kiss-attack people like that." 

"Healthy male libido," Brett teases, smacking Liam's outer thigh. "That's good." He sits up a little better and gestures. "You know... I have a bedroom."

Liam grins. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed that."

"Yeah. And I don't even share it with my best friend... who would love to watch us, probably."

"He'd love to watch you," Liam says pointedly, following Brett off the couch. "He's like a brother to me." 

"Well, you got to me first," Brett smirks. "Unlucky for him."

"Yeah, yeah, poor Mason," Liam mumbles, stepping close enough to kiss the bare slope of Brett's chest. "I feel so bad for him."

"I think you're lying to me, Liam." Brett pulls away from him with a smile. "I gotta put the groceries away."

Liam sits at the kitchen counter and watches as he does. "Are you still gonna teach me to cook?" he asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, that would make you the hottest teacher I've ever had." 

Brett laughs. 

~*~

Dinner's pretty good; Liam does what he's told - which is mostly just cutting vegetables and measuring things out - and pays attention. By the time they're done, they've got a pretty good amount of beef and black bean stir fry.

Liam had honestly forgotten how good home cooked meals tasted, and by the time they're finished, he's feeling so mellow and content he washes the dishes without thinking twice. 

After that, they don't do much - Brett watches TV while Liam gets some of his work done. He uses his glasses instead of his contacts, and it's nice to know that at the end of the night, he can just take them off, and that he won't have to fuck around trying to get his lenses out of his eyes. 

It's right before they head to bed that he hits a snag. He has to take his Risperdal - he takes it twice a day, with a much smaller dose in the morning and a larger one at night. It knocks him out pretty quickly, and he's not quite sure how to sneak off to the bathroom and get his dose in without someone walking in on him.

And Brett studies pharmacology. If he sees Liam take it, or he sees it in his bag, he's going to think Liam's got psychosis, which is what it's usually used to treat. Liam can't handle that, so he decides to come clean about it. 

He spends a good fifteen minutes trying to work out how to say it, and eventually blurts out, "I take medication."

Brett turns to look at him straight away, seeming concerned. "Medication?"

"Yeah." Liam fidgets with a loose thread on his sweats. "Risperdal." He hands the bottle over; Brett looks at the label, reads the prescription on the side, like he's checking to make sure it's legit.

"Risperdal's an anti-psychotic," he says. 

"Yeah, I know, I..." Liam sighs. "I'm not. Psychotic, that is. That's not what I take it for." 

Brett nods. "Do you mind if I ask why you take it?" he asks quietly.

"I have I.E.D," Liam explains. "Intermittent explosive disorder. It's-"

"A behavioural disorder characterised by extreme, violent, uncontrollable bouts of rage," Brett finishes. "I read the DSM-IV. That's okay. Does this control it?"

"Yeah, I haven't had an episode in months." He shrugs. "I thought I should tell you. It makes me really sleepy, too - I've got about ten minutes from the time I take it to get into bed." 

"Okay," Brett says, then smiles. "Hey. Thanks for telling me." A look of realisation spreads across his face. "This is why you don't drink, isn't it?" he asks. "Alcohol makes the effects of it way worse. Same with a lot of medication."

"Yeah. Exactly."

Brett nods and hands him back the bottle. "Okay," he says. "Take that and we can go to sleep."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all." 

So Liam takes the Risperdal, brushes his teeth, and splashes his face with water before padding back into Brett's bedroom. The lamp is on, but the TV and main light are off; Liam's already feeling a little groggy. 

He feels strange as he slips in between Brett's sheets, next to him, and lies down. Brett's sitting up against the headboard; he smiles.

"Y'know," Liam mumbles, "at least this stuff makes it easy to sleep."

"Yeah, I can tell." Brett's hand touches his hair. "You mind if I watch TV?"

"Nope," Liam murmurs sleepily. 

"Okay. Night, Liam."

"G'night."


	7. Seven - Cédez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK  
> I made it out of author purgatory!  
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3

**Chapter Seven - Cédez**

Liam wakes up to an empty bed.

At first, he thinks he's going crazy - he rolls over and palms the mattress, Brett's mattress, before opening his eyes drowsily.

His vision might be blurry without his glasses, but he can very clearly see that Brett isn't in the bed next to him. Which, right off the bat, isn't that alarming - he might be in the bathroom, or making breakfast, or just in the living room, letting Liam sleep.

"Brett?" he asks sleepily.

The bed shudders lightly; Liam rolls onto his back to find Bruce Lee staring at him, purring loudly. Liam smiles, lies back, and rubs the cat's ears and throat while he looks around.

He didn't really take it all in yesterday. Brett's desk is in absolute chaos, medical tomes and notebooks strewn across the surface, at least three mugs pushed to the side, and pens scattered everywhere. The bookshelf is stacked so high with books it's almost alarming - Liam can see all sorts of stuff up there, from the collected works of H.P Lovecraft to historical fiction books to autobiographies. Brett must read a lot; every book looks like it's been opened at least once. 

The bed's warm, soft - the sheets are flannel, Liam was right about that, and Brett even has an electric blanket that makes it suddenly clear as to why Bruce Lee seems to favour this room over the others. There are photos above the bed, too - papered right around a skylight that's letting in the cold, wet light of a midwinter day.

He yawns and stretches, then rolls over and grabs his phone. One message from Hayden, telling him to have fun and be safe. Three from his mom, telling him to please call her so she knows he's alive. And seven from Mason, all about Corey.

He's tempted to go back to sleep, but he's still wondering where Brett is. He swings out of bed - Bruce Lee leaps into his spot and settles down with a toothy yawn - and puts his glasses on before padding out into the bathroom.

Once he's washed his face, taken his morning dose of Risperdal, and brushed his teeth, he exits into the hallway. The apartment's mostly silent; Liam exits into the living room hesitantly, wondering where the hell Brett possibly could have gone.

"Uh - hi?"

Liam jumps, turns around, and finds Pete standing there, squinting at him in confusion and what looks like vague amusement. Liam's suddenly aware that he's wearing a t-shirt and his boxers.

"I swear I didn't crawl in the window," Liam says sheepishly. "I'm not a freak."

"You sure?" Pete asks casually. "You're dating Brett. Evidence is stacked against your favour, little buddy." He looks at Liam appraisingly. "How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen?" Liam asks.

"You don't sound so sure." 

"Eighteen," Liam tries again. "I'll be turning nineteen soon."

Pete shrugs. "I don't care who he screws as long as they're legal," he says, grinning when Liam turns red and starts stammering helplessly. "Hey, don't stress, dude. You're fine. Want some coffee?" 

"Sure," Liam says weakly, sinking into a barstool and pushing his glasses up. "Sorry about, uh-"

"That's okay," Pete says. Liam's only wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. "We're all dudes here. You hungry? I could put something on."

"Um, it's okay, I'll wait for Brett," Liam says, feeling flustered. "He didn't tell you I was staying the night?"

"Nope. He's pretty absentminded, though, so that's hardly surprising." Pete puts a mug of coffee in front of him. "Don't worry, you aren't unwelcome or anything. I was just surprised to see a teenager wandering around in his underwear."

Liam blushes. "Yeah. Sorry. I'll put pants on next time."

Pete laughs. He's got a nice smile - he's not as tall as Brett, but he's much more solid, built like a bear, with dark hair on his arms, a beard, brown hair and matching, kind brown eyes. Now that Liam's over his initial nervousness, he finds the size and general appearance of Pete sort of soothing.

"So, um," Liam says. "Where's-"

"I'm not allowed to tell you where he is, only that he'll be back soon," Pete says, sounding so rehearsed Liam has to smile a little. "He's doing something ridiculously clichéd for you and he's forcing me to be in on it, so act like I didn't mention anything."

"Got it."

Bruce Lee leaps onto Liam's lap and starts digging his claws happily into Liam's thighs, making him hiss with pain.

"Ah," Pete says. "Your turn to be the resident pincushion." 

"He's sweet," Liam says, rubbing Bruce Lee's throat and listening to his purr become almost deafeningly loud. "I don't mind that much." 

"You will when you've got holes in your damn legs," Pete says. "Seriously, if you're gonna let him do that, you should-"

The front door swings open, and Brett enters, smiling when he sees Liam. "You're up."

"How nice of you to join us," Pete says blithely. "I discovered your - whatever he is wandering around the hallway looking very confused and made him a peace offering of coffee. As it turns out, Bruce Lee has decided that he likes Liam, so I guess he's staying."

Brett smiles at Pete sweetly. "And you didn't offer him breakfast?"

"He offered me breakfast," Liam says quickly. "I said I'd wait for you." 

"I like this one," Pete says. "He's helpful and not at all annoying, unlike the last one." 

"I've apologised so many times for that-" 

"He knocked the cat litter tray over on my favourite shoes!" 

This sounds like an argument they've had a thousand times, not that either of them sound genuinely annoyed with one another - and Liam's still feeling kind of warm and happy that Pete doesn't think he's annoying, so he says, "Pete said he wasn't allowed to tell me where you were."

"Ah." Brett's face lights up; he produces a bag with two takeout containers in it. "Breakfast of champions, Liam," he says cheerfully, unloading everything onto the counter. "And juice." 

"I like juice," Liam offers.

"Of course you do," Pete says. "All teenagers have a sweet tooth. Common knowledge."

"How old are you?" Liam asks curiously.

A vaguely distraught look passes over Pete's face. "Twenty seven." 

Liam grins. "Every time you make a joke about me being a teenager, I'm going to make a joke about you being old," he says.

Pete narrows his eyes, but sits down across the breakfast counter - Brett's putting one of the containers in front of Liam. "You know, Brett," he says casually, "usually I don't like the mouthy ones but I have to respect him sticking up for himself."

"He's fiery when you set him off," Brett replies, pouring some kind of pink juice into a glass. "Like a little firecracker."

"I'm right here," Liam says. "Wow, this looks awesome."

"How come you never feed me like this?" Pete grumbles, eyeing their breakfasts.

"Because you have this thing about not paying "the man" any of your "hard earned cash", like you're some kind of crotchety eighty year old who yells "get off my lawn!" at children and pigeons," Brett points out. Liam starts laughing, and it rapidly turns into a cough.

"Besides," Brett says, putting an arm around Liam's neck and drawing him close, "you have no idea how horribly nutrient deficient the cafeteria food is. He'll die if he has to live off that stuff."

"You make it sound like he's a baby who can't feed himself!" Pete splutters. "Also, I am not a crotchety eighty year old, and I don't think we should feed any more money to corporations that continually treat their employees like shit!"

"I didn't get this from Starbucks," Brett says. "I got it from that hipster place down the street. Oxley's. He was a war veteran, Pete. I'm supporting him in his old age." 

"Why don't you support Pete in his old age?" Liam asks innocently, and Brett laughs, obviously surprised, while Pete shoots him a glare.

"Funny, Liam. Very funny."

Liam stabs a rasher of bacon onto his fork and holds it out.

Pete takes it from him. "Keep this one," he says to Brett.

"Even though he shoots his mouth off?" Brett asks, stroking Liam's neck fondly.

"He makes up for it in food," Pete says. "And he's kind of cute, I guess, in a bedraggled look-what-Bruce-Lee-dragged-in kind of way."

Liam's going to take that as the compliment he thinks it was meant to be, and smiles when Pete leaves to go to work. 

"You don't mind him teasing?" Brett asks.

"No. Should I?"

"Definitely not. He only teases people he likes." Brett leans over and kisses his cheek. "Has anyone ever told you that your glasses are cute as hell?"

Liam had forgotten he was wearing them; he usually puts his contacts in as soon as he wakes up. "Not really," he says, laughing a little and knowing he's blushing.

"Well, they are." 

Liam smiles. "Thanks for breakfast," he says. "Was this your big elaborate plan? You didn't have to buy me anything. Mostly I just eat whatever is lying around."

"I know," Brett says pointedly, "which is kind of disturbing and also the exact reason I did buy you breakfast. You're not gonna end up malnourished on my watch."

"I eat enough."

"I've said it before, I'll say it again. Bread isn't a food group."

"Not with that attitude."

"Not with any attitude," Brett says, smiling fondly. "And I can't let you pretend, either. You'll waste away into nothingness."

"Not at the rate you're feeding me."

~*~

It doesn't take Liam long to work out that maybe Brett leaving that morning is a little strange.

By the time he has, his cough has gotten considerably worse, but he drags himself across campus to Hayden's dorm room anyway. He's been thinking about it, and it just seems... odd, that the first time Liam stayed at Brett's place, he disappeared for so long. 

And Pete was relieved when he came back, too. There's that. Liam knocks on Hayden's dorm room door.

She answers straight away, hair in a towel. "Hi," she says cheerfully. 

"Hi," he croaks.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I've got a cold," he sniffles unhappily, coming in when she motions and wrapping himself in one of her thousands of throw blankets. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Go for it." She opens a drawer full of - well, Liam thinks it might be makeup but he could be woefully wrong on that front - and starts pulling things out. 

"I stayed at Brett's last night," he says. "He dropped me back this morning before he had work. But he was gone when I woke up. To get breakfast or something, but I thought it was kind of weird. Like, I dunno. His roommate was there and seemed to be in on it, but-"

He breaks his sentence off to cough, his chest searing with the action. Hayden rubs his back worriedly until he stops, then bends over to take the towel off her head.

"Liam, that cough sounds terrible," Hayden says as she straightens up, flicking her hair behind her head and Liam, consequently, with droplets of water. "You should go to a doctor."

Liam coughs again, wincing at the pain in his throat. "It'll go away on its own," he croaks. "What do you think about Brett?"

"I think it's really weird he'd just up and leave," Hayden admits. "With you in his bed I mean. Speaking of bed, did you-"

"No," Liam says quickly, going red. "We didn't, um - I took my Risperdal and fell asleep and when I woke up he was gone. I mean, we were making out on the couch but his roommate got home and-"

"And you're rambling," Hayden smiles, "not that it isn't cute or anything." Then her eyes widen. "You were making out on the couch?"

Liam pulls a pillow over his face. "Leave me alone." 

"Liam, that's great," she says, and Liam pulls the pillow away a little to see her smiling happily. "Seriously. That's awesome. I know Noah gave you a hard time... but Brett seems different than that."

"He is. He's cool. I guess."

"Is that the extent of men's affection?" she wonders aloud. "Saying someone's cool like you'll get a venereal disease and die if you actually outright state you like someone?"

"You kidding? That's exactly what happens when we admit to our feelings."

Hayden giggles, lies down next to him, and snuggles up to his shoulder. She's warm and smells like cinnamon and flowers and other girly stuff Liam's not all that accustomed to smelling, but it's almost like home - he knows he's got a place with Hayden and Mason even if everything else in his life is rocky, and he's lucky for that.

"Okay," Hayden says. "I'll try harder."

"Really?"

"You like him. I'll try harder. Just promise me something?"

"Yeah?"

"That you'll be careful." She sits up and looks down at him. "Don't let him hurt you just because you'd rather that than hurt him yourself," she murmurs. "Don't let him take advantage of you, okay? You're too nice to say no."

"He won't take advantage of me," Liam reassures her. "But I won't."

"Good." With that, she hops up. "I have a date tonight. Help me choose an outfit?"

~*~

The next day, his cold is worse.

He drags himself to class anyway, messages Brett bemoaning how cold the buildings are this time of year and how he sort of wishes he was still in California with his family - where it's already beginning to warm up again after a relatively mild winter.

He doesn't really think about the fact that Brett hasn't answered until he's home after a full day of classes. By that time, he's feeling so shitty that he downs some Nyquil and passes out after reading a chapter of his forensics textbook. Before he does, he texts Brett again, hesitating and wondering if he's being annoying.

**To** : Brett Talbot, 8:49PM  
Wanna catch up soon?

He goes to sleep with the knowledge that he'll have a text back in the morning, at least. His dreams are strange, punctured by brief moments of consciousness that make him aware of his cough, of his throat and head hurting, of the fact that he has a fever.

When he does wake - early, with Mason looking at him worriedly - his phone is silent, barren of notifications. Liam realises Brett hasn't talked to him in almost three days around the time he realises he's been ghosted.

He doesn't say anything. Mason brings him some toast and eggs from the cafeteria, even though he hates them, then leaves for class, telling him to get some rest.

Liam's only just finished breakfast when his stomach rolls, and he realises he's going to be sick. Fortunately for him, Mason gets drunk regularly enough that they have a bucket in their dorm, and Liam curls over it miserably. 

Even with a fever, a chesty, painful cough that won't let up, and a headache bad enough to make him want take a whole packet of Tylenol at once, he's finely attuned to every noise his phone makes - none of which are caused by Brett messaging him.

He tries to rest, he does. But he's so uncomfortable he can't lie still, and the Nyquil he took the night before has barely even touched his fever. He's exhausted just from the tossing and turning, but he realises he probably needs to get to a doctor when his chest starts to hurt - a stabbing, abrupt pain whenever he inhales.

He hesitates before trying to call Brett - there's no answer. Liam puts aside the pang of confusion and hurt and anger that causes and moves on, calls Hayden.

"Hey, Li."

"Hi." He coughs. "Um, you busy?"

"No." She sounds concerned. "You sound awful. Are you alright?"

"That's why I'm calling. Can you - can you take me to the doctor's?" There's a free clinic a few miles from here. 

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there soon."

She's not lying; it's barely ten minutes later that she turns up, looking impeccably well put together and worried. He lets her in almost reluctantly.

"What's wrong?" she asks as soon as she steps inside. "Are you okay?"

Liam shakes his head. "You know that cough?"

"Yeah?"

"It's worse." 

"Have you called Brett?" she asks as she finds some clothes for him. He didn't even think about getting changed - he's wearing boxers and a ratty old t-shirt.

"I - I tried but he didn't answer."

"He didn't answer?!" she squawks.

"Yeah. I haven't heard from him in days."

With that information, Hayden's yanking her phone out of her pocket - she and Brett have exchanged numbers on the basis that Hayden and Mason are basically Liam's family here, and that Brett should ask them if something's wrong.

"Hayden," Liam pleads. "Hayden, c'mon, no, you'll make it worse-"

But Hayden's not listening, and Liam's overtaken by a fit of coughing as she pulls out her phone and stabs Brett's name angrily. 

He watches wearily as she paces. "He's probably just-"

"Brett, it's Hayden," she snaps, and when she continues, Liam realises she's gotten voicemail. "Not that it's any of your concern, evidently, but I'm taking your boyfriend to the fucking doctor's like you should have done hours ago." With that, she hangs up, turns around, and says, "C'mon, Li. Let's go."

Hayden takes him down to the clinic and sits until his name is called. He follows the receptionist through to the doctor's study and sits down to wait for him, shivering a little. Overall, he's feeling miserable - although he's grateful, kind of, that the amount of physical discomfort he's in makes it almost impossible to think about Brett ghosting him.

The doctor asks him to take his shirt off when he enters. He's a stout man with a European accent Liam doesn't recognise, and he doesn't seem overly concerned with how cold his hands or the stethoscope are. He listens to Liam's chest for almost two whole minutes, moving to different parts and frowning occasionally. 

It doesn't take him long to decide Liam's got pneumonia. Still, he writes up a referral for a chest x-ray and blood test at the local hospital and sends him on his way there. 

"Sorry you have to drive me around," Liam croaks to Hayden.

"Don't be." She looks worried. "It doesn't matter as long as you start to feel better. Pneumonia?"

Liam nods tiredly.

"Where did you get that?"

Liam's too tired to talk; he shrugs and burrows down in Brett's hoodie, desperately wishing Brett was here with him, or at least answering his fucking phone. He's kind of grateful for being too sick to really care that Brett seems to have ghosted on him. Still, he can't help but vaguely wonder what it was he did wrong. He thought things were going pretty well.

The x-ray technician is nicer than the doctor; within an hour, the x-ray has confirmed he has pneumonia, and the blood test has confirmed that it's bacterial. Liam's sent to the on-site pharmacy with three different prescriptions and instructions to rest, drink plenty of water, and to practice breathing exercises.

Hayden sits with him as they wait for his prescriptions to be filled, arms crossed over her chest. Liam turns to her, taking in the furious, hard set of her jaw and the heat of her eyes.

"You're breathing almost as hard as me," he jokes weakly, "and you don't have shitty lungs." 

"I can't believe Brett," she spits. "He spent all this time acting like he cared about you and that he was going to be there for you and now nobody knows where he is or what he's doing and he won't answer his phone."

"You tried calling him?" Liam rasps. 

"Of course I tried calling him." Hayden looks upset now; Liam's known her long enough to know that she has about a ten minute window between getting angry to being upset. "I mean he - look, I might not like him much, Liam. But you do, and I know you'd feel better if he was here."

There's a long pause. He would, as weird as that is; he's focussed on not falling down and not making things harder for Hayden than they have to be. But he smiles at her a little - his face kind of hurts - and says, "You're here. That's pretty great." 

She smiles at him, putting a hand on his back as he coughs listlessly. He's done trying to clear his throat or lungs - it doesn't work, it makes his chest hurt worse and it tires him out anyway. 

"Liam Dunbar?" 

He starts to stand, but Hayden gets there first. "I'll get it," she says kindly. 

"Thanks." He pitches forward, elbows on his knees, trying to straighten out his torso so that his lungs aren't compressed. 

Hayden returns carrying three boxes of medicine. "You're going to be drugged up to your eyes," she says, and Liam wheezes helplessly.

"Maybe I won't feel anything."

He still has to pay for them, which sucks, but at least he's on his parents' insurance still. When they get back to his dorm room, Hayden wraps him in a blanket like he's a human-sized burrito and starts pulling the packages open.

"Hayds," Liam croaks. "You don't have to stay if you don't want. I'm okay." 

"I'm not leaving," she says, her tone leaving no room for an argument. "Have you got PowerAde or anything around here?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He watches as she pops some pills out of their blister packs. "So what is all this shit?" he asks, wishing Brett was here to explain to him what it's all for. It's not like he really understands, but he does like listening to Brett talk, and it doesn't matter much what it's about.

"Um..." Hayden reads the label of the biggest pack. "This is Amoxil, so I'm guessing that's the antibiotic?" Liam swallows it down with some water and watches her pop another one out. "This is... Sudafed, so, a decongestant, and the other one is just Emetrol."

Liam rubs his face. "You're right. Between all this and my Risperdal I'm going to be high as fuck."

She smiles as she measures out some of the Emetrol. "First time being high and it's totally legal. Wow, we're kind of sad." 

Liam laughs, coughs, and then sneezes. Hayden passes him a box of tissues, commenting, "You're disgusting." 

"Sorry," Liam says with a weak smile.

"Don't be." She looks around. "Have you got anything in here that you're actually going to be able to stomach while you're sick?"

Liam ticks off a few things mentally - raisin bread, M&M's, Reese's, some vodka of Mason's, and a metric fuckton of coffee. "No," he admits.

"Liam..."

"Don't scold me, I'm sick," he says, sniffling miserably for effect.

"I'll pick you up some stuff after I finish work, okay?" Hayden asks. "Just try and take care of yourself until then." 

"Yes ma'am."

Hayden stays until her shift is due to start, then leaves him with a kiss on the forehead and instructions to drink plenty of water. Liam thinks if he drinks any more the ocean might dry up, but he promises anyway.

He dozes off eventually, wakes up to a knock on the door, and stumbles out of bed before thinking that maybe he doesn't want to answer it. 

When he does, Brett's standing there, looking stressed and concerned. "Liam," he breathes. "Fuck, you look awful."

Liam blinks. He hasn't seen or heard from Brett in days. "Uh, yeah," he says, slowly. "I - did you even listen to your messages?"

"My phone's flat," Brett says, his eyes trailing Liam's form. "What-"

"Where the hell were you?" Liam demands. 

Brett opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn't seem to know what to say.

"I've been trying to call you," Liam says, feeling inexplicably hurt. Brett doesn't owe him anything, not really - in fact, Liam probably owes him. "And Hayden tried calling you and - nothing, for three days."

Brett still says nothing. He's looking down at his shoes.

Liam swallows thickly - partly because he's congested, and partly because, well, he's hurt. "You know," he says quietly, "if you... don't want to see me anymore, if you've changed your mind, that's okay. I wouldn't blame you. You didn't have to ghost on me, though. You could've just told me." 

"That's not what I was doing," Brett says pleadingly. "I do want to see you." 

"Okay," Liam says uncertainly. 

They stand there for a moment. Liam coughs, wishes Brett would just let him go back to bed already. 

"Can you give me an hour?" Brett asks.

Liam closes his eyes, leans on the doorframe. "Sure," he mumbles unhappily. 

"I'm coming back, I promise," Brett says. "It's just an hour. I promise." 

"Okay, yeah," Liam says, and lets Brett kiss his cheek before watching him take off down the hallway.

Liam shuts the door. Eventually, he picks up his stuff for the shower, then goes to wash off the fever sweat and smell of the hospital waiting room. The heat of the water makes him a little dizzy, so he can't stay in as long as he'd like, and soon enough he's back in his dorm.

New clothes. He climbs into a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt, tosses everything else into his laundry basket. He has some water; he's distinctly not hungry. Not feeling sick anymore, or like he'll throw up, but definitely not into the thought of food at all. 

He's just settled in with a mug of tea and an episode of the X-Files when there's a knock on his door. 

It's Brett again - holding a huge bunch of flowers and two Walmart bags. Liam blinks. 

"Uh-"

"I've been a really terrible boyfriend," Brett says, "and I'm really sorry." 

Liam can't help but smile a little bit. "Are you my boyfriend?" he asks, leaning his head on the door jamb. 

"If you'll still have me," Brett says softly. 

Liam hesitates for a moment, then stands back to let Brett in, fairly sure that his trust is misplaced and that he's going to get monumentally fucked over very shortly. But... he can't say no, because he likes Brett and Brett seems genuinely sorry.

"I listened to all my voicemail messages," Brett says guiltily. "Pneumonia, huh?"

"Mm. It sucks." Liam crawls back onto his bed. "So, um, what-"

"I'll tell you why I was gone soon," Brett says, his voice breaking. "Just - can I have a few hours to work out how to say it?"

"Yeah," Liam responds uncertainly. "I was actually gonna ask what the flowers are for, though."

There's a pause, and then Brett smiles a little. "Isn't that what you do to apologise to someone? Buy them flowers? You aren't - you don't get hayfever or anything, right? You're not gonna die from smelling them?"

"I'm not gonna die." Liam looks around the room. "I dunno if I have anywhere to put them though." 

"There's water in the little box," Brett says, putting them on the desk and then pulling the chair over to Liam's bed. "So you don't need a vase or anything." His eyes rake over Liam slowly. "You look like shit," he murmurs.

"Thanks. I feel like shit too." 

"How sick are you?"

"I dunno. You want a rating out of ten?" 

Brett smiles, then picks up the Walmart bags and puts them on the bed. "I got you some stuff," he says. "PowerAde, soup, shit like that." 

"You didn't have to do that," Liam murmurs. "Thank you."

"I brought you one of my hoodies as well," Brett adds, and Liam laughs so suddenly it turns into a cough. Brett rubs his back - hesitantly at first, then with more confidence when Liam doesn't shrug him off. "What's so funny about that?"

"I dunno, I'm taking like four different drugs right now. Nothing, probably."

"Four?" Brett asks.

Liam motions to his desk. Brett picks up the bottle of Emetrol first. "What's this for?"

"I was puking." Liam shrugs. "They don't want me dehydrated apparently. Then there's Sudafed for congestion, and Amoxil, and my Risperdal."

"Damn," Brett murmurs. "Seems like overkill."

"I dunno, two hours ago I really wanted to die but now I just want to pass out."

Brett smiles at him, but it looks sad and strained. "Maybe you should get some rest."

"Maybe." Liam leans his head sleepily against the window near his bed. "I just don't want you to leave." 

"Then I won't," Brett says. "You've got about a million different TV shows on your hard drive. I'll stay and watch. You can get some rest. Everyone wins." He opens one of the Walmart bags as Liam watches. "But you should have something to eat. When was the last time you ate?"

"A while ago, I guess. I haven't been hungry."

"Still need to eat, buddy." 

Liam has some soup, reluctantly - the smell makes him feel queasy, but once he's got a few mouthfuls down, he finds that he is actually kind of hungry and wanting to eat. After that, he sits with his back against the wall, blinking in an effort to keep his eyes open, feeling bleary and just generally unwell.

"Hey."

He looks at Brett. "Mm?"

"You should get some sleep," Brett murmurs. "I'll stay, I promise. But you need to rest, okay? I'm willing to bet the doctors told you that. And you probably need to take another Amoxil tablet, too."

He's sure Brett's right about that; he's meant to take them three times a day for two weeks, and his last one was hours ago now. He takes one with a sip of PowerAde and says, "What time is it?"

"About three," Brett says softly. Liam realises he's keeping his voice pitched low so it doesn't hurt his head and smiles gratefully.

"Cool. If you're still here, can you wake me up again before I need my next one?"

"I'll still be here," Brett says. 

Liam's not sure about that, but he appreciates that Brett wants him to think so. He crawls underneath the blankets, letting his body sink gratefully into the mattress, and closes his eyes, yawning.

Brett moves, and something touches his face. When he opens his eyes again, Brett's smiling and taking his glasses off. Liam had completely forgotten he was wearing them until now. "Thanks," he says sleepily.

"No problem."

~*~

Shaking chills wake him up.

He moans unhappily, moving to bury his head into the warm, soft shape near his face. He feels a hand pass over his hair, accompanied by a vaguely sympathetic noise. His whole body is wracked with tremors so powerful they've woken him up, and he's not fucking happy about it. 

"Think his fever might be breaking a little," Brett's voice says quietly.

"How can you tell?"

Liam's confused by a few things in that moment - Brett's here, there are two voices in the room, and the warm, soft shape he thought was his pillow is moving. 

It takes him a moment to piece everything together - he's in his dorm, Brett came to see him, and the second voice is Hayden's. The warm, soft shape is Brett's lower belly, moving with his breath. Liam's curled up, on his side, his right arm and leg slung over Brett's body like he's trying to melt into him.

Not that melting into Brett sounds bad. It doesn't. He's warm and soft and safe beneath Liam's shaking frame, and he wants to stay here forever. He thinks one of Brett's arms is around his shoulders, the other being used to stroke his hair gently.

He likes having his hair stroked, so he's not gonna shake him off.

"He hasn't been shaking like this all afternoon. He's been okay." 

"He has a name," Liam mumbles, his voice pitifully scratchy. 

He opens his eyes to find that he was right about his position on Brett's body; he only feels a little embarrassed when he catches sight of Hayden looking down at him fondly. She's sitting next to Brett, but there's an icy five inches of space between them.

"Hey, Liam." She uses her thumb to rub his forehead and the bridge of his nose. "Feeling better?"

He thinks about that. His head hurts less and he's not fighting the urge to cough, but he feels like he's freezing to death. He registers that they're all piled onto his single-person dorm bed like puppies and says, "This is the closest I'm ever gonna get to a threesome."

Brett barks out a surprised laugh. "You mustn't be trying very hard," he teases. 

Liam blinks, feeling a little disoriented. "What time is it?" he asks.

"About seven," Hayden says. "I finished my shift and came back here. What's his face was here when I got back."

"I let him in," Liam yawns. "He didn't break the door down or anything." 

"I figured." Hayden sends Brett a hostile glare. "I don't see why, but I figured." 

"Be nice," Liam mumbles. "He has a name. And he brought me flowers."

"I saw that."   
"It's good he wasn't alone anyway," Brett says heatedly. "He hasn't been able to stop coughing, even while he's sleeping. Something could've happened and we wouldn't have known."

"Well, you wouldn't have, what with not answering your phone," Hayden snaps waspishly.

"Stop fighting," Liam moans. "Jesus. Why are you both in my bed anyway?" 

"You were cold, so I got in with you," Brett explains. "Hayden just invited herself up here."

"She's always welcome in my bed," Liam croaks, and Hayden sends Brett a victorious smirk. "Okay, you know what? If you two are gonna fight, I'm gonna go sleep in Mason's bed."

"We'll stop fighting," Hayden says quickly. "You should keep resting." 

"Damn right," Liam mumbles. Then, somewhere in the back of his fever-addled mind, he has this great idea that if he's in between them, he'll be able to stop them from arguing - so he picks his way tiredly over Brett's legs and settles down in the tiny gap between them. "That's better," he murmurs sleepily.

They both laugh this time. "What're you doing?" Brett asks. 

"Making sure you don't fight," Liam yawns. "I'll be able to stop you if you do."

"Sure you will, sweetie," Hayden says, but she leans down to kiss Liam's hair gently and starts stroking the back of his neck. 

"Don't call me sweetie," Liam mutters, but there's no heat behind it.

"He's fine," Brett says, rubbing Liam's back. 

~*~

He must doze off again, because the next time he opens his eyes, it's pitch black and the only light in his dorm room is coming from the lamp on his bedside table, and the muted glow of the TV.

He stretches a little. Hayden's gone, but Brett's still here. He moves when Liam does, looks down at him with a soft, concerned expression.

"Feeling better?" he murmurs.

Liam nods sleepily. "Much."

"Good. Antibiotics must be doing something for you." Brett's gentle when he lifts Liam's chin a bit. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead. I'm still mostly asleep, though."

Brett chuckles. "That's okay. I take a photography class and I need a model. You interested?"

Liam blinks. "You want me to model for your photography project?"

"Yeah. You've got a nice face. Really symmetrical. Strong jaw and everything."

"Okay," Liam says, tucking his head into Brett's lap. "But can you wait until it isn't all puffy?"

Brett laughs. "You aren't puffy. You're fine."

"I feel puffy." He rubs at the tops of his cheeks, where they feel sore and swollen. "Ow." 

Brett tugs his hands away from his face with a gentle smile. "Hey," he says. "You're fine. Not puffy at all. Not that I can see, anyway." He inspects Liam closely. "Do you... wanna stay at my place for a little bit?" he asks. "Until you're feeling better?"

Liam sniffles. "I'm not great company right now." 

"You're always great company," Brett says. "Nice to look at, anyway. You don't have to, but it's a little warmer at my place." There's a loud crash somewhere in the hallway, then muted cheering. "And quieter, too."

Liam does hesitate, he has to admit that. He doesn't want to be in the way of Brett's life or Pete's life or anyone else's life, really. But he also still hasn't found out why Brett disappeared for three days and he can't do it again if Liam's in his bedroom.

"I'll make you soup," Brett says sweetly, not seeming to realise that Liam's hesitation is him not wanting to be an inconvenience, and not because he doesn't want to.

"You don't have to make me soup," Liam says, smiling a little. "Only if it's okay with Pete."

"It is," Brett says. "I already told him I was going to ask. He's been worried about you."

"Really?"

"You tend to leave an impression on people." Brett's fingers skim the back of his neck softly. "So... how about it?" He tilts his head and smiles. "A mini-vacation at Casa Del Brett?"

"You're a loser," Liam croaks past a weak chuckle. "Yeah. Thank you. You don't have to do any of this, you know - like look after me and stuff."

"I want to," Brett replies, and Liam can hear the simple sincerity of the statement. "Want me to help you pack?"

"I can do it," Liam mumbles, sitting up and then sliding clumsily out of his bed. "I don't think I unpacked much from last time." 

He overpacks this time, working under the assumption that being sick means he'll be sweating and generally disgusting, and then follows Brett to where he parked. By the time they get there, Liam feels pathetically out of breath.

"Sucks, huh?" Brett asks, listening to his laboured breathing.

"Yeah." He doesn't have energy for any more words; Brett parked across campus, in one of the only spots known for regularly having at least one spot free. He probably didn't think he'd be carting Liam's wheezing ass over here at nine on a Thursday night. 

Brett leans over and turns the heat up and the volume down, then starts the car. Liam's grateful for the consideration, but his head doesn't hurt too badly anymore. 

"Where's Pete?" Liam asks when they enter.

Brett dumps Liam's bag on the couch - he'd taken it off him without asking in the parking lot when it became clear Liam's having enough trouble breathing with just his own body to worry about - and says, "He's working. Won't be home until really early in the morning, probably. That okay?"

Liam blinks. "Huh? Yeah, of course." 

There's a loud meow; Bruce Lee leaps down from the back of the couch and winds around Liam's legs, purring. Liam bends down to pick him up, blinking when his head swims with vertigo. 

Brett's watching him carefully. "You okay?"

"Just got dizzy." Liam hugs Bruce to him, smiling a little. "This is the best cat ever."

"Most cats are assholes, so yeah, probably."

"They aren't assholes." Liam watches as Brett heads into the kitchen. "They just end up with owners who don't understand them. Most animals just end up with shitty owners."

Brett smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You look out for the little guy, huh?" Brett asks, and when Liam blinks in confusion, goes on to say, "you're doing a crime course to protect victims from shitty situations, you love animals, you actually like listening to old people rant about the various forms of injustice in today's society... do you have any faults?"

"Plenty, but I don't go into all my neuroses until at least the fifth date," Liam says, and Brett laughs.

"What are we on? Four?"

"Yeah."

"One more and you have to tell me, then," Brett says with a small smile. 

"Okay." He's willing to agree to that; if Brett wants to run for the hills, he should at least get the opportunity, he figures.

He doesn't ask Brett about why he was gone. Brett said he'd say why eventually, and Liam wants to trust him and be proven it isn't misplaced, so he stays quiet on that front. He accepts the tea Brett gives him, though, and settles in on the couch.

They're halfway through a movie when Liam starts to notice how hot he feels. He knows he shouldn't be spiking a fever when he's been on antibiotics for almost a day, and he pads into the bathroom in search of a thermometer. 

He finds one in the cupboard and stands there, texting Mason, while he waits for it to read his temperature. He looks like shit - his face isn't puffy, but he's almost white, eyes red and watery, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"What's up?" Brett asks, sticking his head in.

Liam points at the thermometer.

"Oh. Why? You feeling worse?"

Liam shakes his head. Brett comes inside and puts his hands on Liam's neck, then one on his forehead. 

"Oh," he realises. "Feeling kind of hot, huh?"

Liam nods. His head's pounding now, too, when it wasn't before.

"Your fever's probably breaking," Brett says. "I bet in two minutes you feel cold again. But you definitely don't feel as hot as you did before."

The thermometer beeps; Brett's right. His temperature's lower than it has been in days. Liam figured that would make him feel better, not worse. 

Brett smiles at him sympathetically. "Still have half the movie to go, if you feel like watching it," he says softly. "It might take your mind off being sick."

"Yeah, okay," Liam murmurs back.

They've been sitting for fifteen minutes when Liam caves in and buries his head in Brett's chest, his eyes closed, the movement on the screen making him feel nauseous. Brett tucks an arm around him and lowers the volume a little. 

"You okay?"

Liam nods a little.

"Okay," Brett murmurs. "Let me know if you need anything."

He doesn't; he shivers through the next half hour, sweat rolling off his temples, but when the shaking eventually subsides and he risks lifting his head, he finds that he's not as dizzy and it doesn't hurt to look at the TV.

He blinks. Brett peers down at him, apparently assessing his general state of health.

"You seem better." 

Liam nods. "A little."

"Aren't you tired?" Brett asks. "You wanna sleep?"

"You have no idea how much I've been sleeping the last couple of days," Liam sighs.

"Okay. Well, in that case, you wanna keep me company while I cook dinner?"

"Dinner? It's ten thirty." 

"Yeah, but if I make enough now I won't have to make it the next few nights," Brett says, pausing the movie and getting off the couch. "You don't have to though."

"Gotta learn to cook," Liam mumbles, climbing off the couch after Brett. "What's on tonight?"

"Whatever I have ingredients for," Brett murmurs, sticking his head in the fridge. "Which... might just be spaghetti."

"Nothing wrong with spaghetti," Liam says, hovering around the kitchen counter.

Brett looks at him as he turns, holding about a dozen things in his arms. "You want a shower?" he asks kindly. 

"Yes please," Liam responds quickly. He's sure that a shower will at least make him feel more human again. 

Brett gets him a towel and gives him a warning about the sensitivity of the hot and cold taps before flicking the stove on. 

It takes Liam a while to get the temperature right, but once he does, he steps under the powerful spray and sighs contentedly. The steam is clearing his nose and lungs a little, and he already feels cleaner, just from getting wet. 

He tries not to stay in for too long - Brett and Pete have to pay a water bill, after all - and then steps out, towels off, and pulls on new clothes. He feels about a thousand times better with clean hair and skin. 

Brett smiles when Liam enters the kitchen. "Better?"

"Much better," Liam agrees, sitting down at the counter. "Want any help with anything?" 

"Nah. Pretty easy stuff." Brett's eyes are streaming; he's been chopping onions. "You sleepy yet?"

"No. But you can go to bed, if you're tired-"

"I'm not," Brett says. "Just checking you aren't."

Liam yawns suddenly. "Nope."

"Sure." Brett motions to the stove. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Um... a while ago, I guess." He doesn't distinctly remember, come to think of it. 

"Want some?"

"Maybe a little." He watches Brett move around the kitchen. "You're really good at taking care of people," he notes.

Brett chuckles a little. "What do you mean? It's easy. You know, pills, sleep, water. Everyone knows that stuff."

"Yeah, but you're like - you know which pills to take with food and how they all work and you've got a really good bedside manner, like, I feel soothed being around you, and I don't think I've felt soothed by anything since I was four." 

Brett looks a little touched, even as he smiles wider. "So you've always been highly strung?"

"Yep. Always." 

"Sounds like you need to learn how to relax." Brett leans across the counter, smirking softly, and gives him a lingering kiss. "When you're better, I know some pretty good ways to learn. Free of charge, of course, because I'm a good person."

"Oh, that's why," Liam says, tilting his head and grinning back. "Can you wait until I'm not, you know, about to wheeze to death?"

"Yeah, that's probably for the best."

They don't talk a lot for the rest of the night - Liam knows what Brett meant, that it's a promise to take things further, and that makes him pretty fucking happy. He didn't think he'd end up with someone as patient as Brett, who doesn't seem to mind his inexperience, or how shy he is, or anything else. 

They go to bed just before midnight - Liam skips the Emetrol because he had a little pasta without any trouble, takes his antibiotic and Risperdal. Bruce Lee follows them into Brett's bedroom, jumping up on Liam's side of the bed.

"My cat likes you more than me or my roommate," Brett grumbles.

"That's okay. I like your cat more than you or your roommate too."

Brett's jaw drops. "Rude," he says as Liam laughs. "Get some sleep. You'll probably feel way better in the morning." 

Liam yawns; he's already feeling slightly better. He doesn't think his temperature's quite back to normal yet - he still feels a little warm - but it's well on its way.

"Thanks for everything, Brett," he mumbles sleepily.

"No problem." Brett flicks the light off. "Night."

"Night."

~*~

He wakes up in the morning to Bruce Lee kneading his chest.

He groans; his head is pounding anew, and he can't work out if it's genuine pain or just dehydration. Either way, Bruce Lee's sharp claws, right in the middle of his chest, isn't a pleasant thing to wake up to.

"Sorry about that."

He blinks his eyes open; Brett's still in bed with him, smiling fondly. "It was you or me," Brett explains. "And you said last night you like him more than me, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

"I'd rather have you groping me," Liam mumbles groggily. "What time is it?"

"Too early for me to grope you," Brett says with a chuckle. "It's just gone eight."

Liam squints at him. "Why's that too early?"

"You're not even properly awake. I'm also not a morning sex person."

"Hey, I was just talking about groping." Liam rolls onto his stomach; Brett starts stroking his back, and he sighs. "Hmm."

"Want some breakfast?"

"You don't have to cook again," Liam mumbles, feeling a little embarrassed at how much Brett's been taking care of him. "I'll eat whatever's there."

"I like cooking," Brett replies honestly. "I like making things. What do you feel like?"

Liam opens his mouth, realises he doesn't have an answer, and closes it. His choices are usually toast, whatever's lying around his and Mason's dorm, or reconstituted crap from the cafeteria. Meaning he mostly skips. 

"I'll surprise you," Brett says with a grin. "Take your drugs."

Liam gets out of bed and does as he's told - takes Risperdal and the Amoxil, but leaves the other two until he really needs them. After that, he pads out into the kitchen, wearing one of Brett's crewnecks over his own t-shirt.

Brett holds a finger up to his lips. "We gotta be quiet," he whispers. "Pete's still sleeping."

Liam nods and comes to stand next to Brett at the counter. "Can I help?" he murmurs back.

"Sure. You feeling okay, though?"

Liam nods; he's feeling a lot better than he did yesterday, at any rate. "What're we making?"

"French toast."

Liam's mouth waters. "Really?"

"Really. It's not that hard." Brett motions to the eggs. "Can you crack those and whisk them?"

Liam does as he's told, hovering around until Brett produces a huge plate of French toast, yoghurt, and berries. "This is like going to a restaurant for breakfast," Liam murmurs. "Awesome. Thanks - I need to do something for you."

"You're here," Brett says. "That's pretty great."

Liam can't imagine how his presence, given how shy and nervous he is most of the time, makes a huge difference in the quality of Brett's life, but it's still nice to hear. "I'm gonna take you out on a date," he proclaims.

Brett laughs. "Huh?"

"I'm gonna take you out on a date. You'll have to pick me up, but I'm taking you somewhere."

"Okay. Where're we going?"

"It's a surprise." Because he hasn't decided yet, mostly. "I'll let you know." 

"Right. Do you drive?"

"Yeah," Liam says, blinking, his voice muffled by a mouthful of toast. "I drove you home that night, from the party, remember?"

"Oh yeah. No car?"

Liam shrugs. "School was more important. And I'm out of state, so it's more expensive."

"Haven't heard that before," Brett murmurs thoughtfully. "I like it. You really care about school, huh?"

"Yeah. I hate it when people enroll in college and waste their money - or their parents' money - doing stupid shit and failing out of everything. Like, you don't have to waste money to get drunk, you know? Or maybe you do."

Brett laughs. "Yeah. I know what you mean." He nods at Liam's bag. "I saw you brought Outlast and Until Dawn."

Liam smiles innocently. "Little gaming never hurt anybody."

"Oh really?" Brett asks dryly. "Try telling my blood pressure that."

That's what they do for the next few hours - play video games. They start with Call of Duty, but Liam's bored by co-op games and he's a really, really competitive person, which makes him a crap teammate, so they switch to Outlast.

He passes the controller off to Brett when it's time to take his next pill. He takes the Amoxil with water, then, after a moment's hesitation, the Emetrol as well, because he's starting to feel kind of nauseous and he doesn't really want Brett to see him puking. He wants the guy to like him, and he feels like puking has no place in that equation.

When he goes back to Brett's bedroom, he's curled up, under the covers, the controller dropped on Liam's spot and the game paused. Brett peers at him miserably from the safety of the sheets.

"What are you doing?" Liam asks blankly, climbing back into bed and picking up the controller.

"I wanna finish the story," Brett whimpers. "I'm just too scared to look."

Liam chuckles, loops an arm around Brett's neck, and holds the controller. Brett rests his head on Liam's chest and shoulder, barely looking at the TV screen. "I'll protect you," Liam giggles helplessly. "You baby."

"I'm not a baby," Brett mumbles into Liam's chest - he's got a hand wrapped loosely into Liam's t-shirt. "I just have finely tuned fight or flight insti - OH FUCK!"

Liam laughs as the twins appear out of nowhere, sending Brett into the general vicinity of his ribs. "You gonna be okay?" he teases.

"No." Brett's voice is small and muffled; Liam can tell where his head is because his breath is warm against Liam's side. "I'm gonna be traumatised."

"Good thing I'm staying the night then, right?"

"Don't you dare leave me."

"Dude. I can't. I don't have a car and I can barely walk still." 

Brett lifts his head from Liam's side and peers at him. "You're feeling a little better though, right?" he asks, flinching when Liam narrowly misses being swiped by the twins.

"Yeah. A little." Truth be told, Liam still feels pretty weak and shivery and awful. He's still running a bit of a fever, too - the doctor told him that would break within forty eight hours, once the antibiotics kicked in properly. But he isn't vomiting anymore, even if he isn't hungry, and his chest has stopped hurting so badly it hinders him drawing breath.

"Okay," Brett moans as the twins successfully catch up to Liam and begin to choke him out. "Can we please turn this off and play something else?"

"How about Until Dawn?"

"How about go fuck yourself?"

Liam laughs so much it turns into a spluttering cough; Brett rubs his back, but he's smiling fondly as he does.

As he watches Liam cough, the smile slips from his face a little; he puts his other hand on Liam's chest and tries to get him to straighten up. "You okay, Liam?"

Liam nods, drawing a painful, wheezing breath. "Damn," he breathes thickly. "This is the worst. Like, the sickest I've ever been, I mean."

Brett nods and strokes his spine lightly with two fingers. Then, "My mom has cancer."

Liam feels sort of like someone dropped an anvil on him, like Wile-E Coyote used to try and do to the Road Runner in all those stupid Looney Tunes cartoons, except the anvil actually hit him and he had no idea it was coming. 

Brett seems to realise it came out of nowhere, at least, saving Liam from fumbling through an explanation by saying, softly, "Lung cancer. Stage three small-cell carcinoma, to be exact. You... wanted to know why I've been acting weird, not messaging you back - why I left you that morning for hours. That's why." 

Stage three small-cell carcinoma. Liam's brain is still trying to absorb that through the thick layer of antibiotics, painkillers, and Emetrol clouding his thinking capabilities. 

"It's okay if you don't know what to say," Brett says quietly.

"I'm really sorry," Liam replies, suddenly getting his brain to cooperate again. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

Now that Brett's told him, he seems to be on a roll. "When I went off the grid while you were really sick," he babbles, "and you kept trying to call me - she was in the ICU and we didn't know if she'd make it out. They don't let us have phones in there because they interfere with the equipment and it ran flat and by the time I walked out of there I realised it'd been days and-"

"Is she okay now?" Liam interrupts. 

Brett stops, blinks, then says, "She's out of the ICU. She's - the cancer's still there, but she's awake."

"Then that's all that matters," Liam says simply. 

There's a long pause. Liam takes the time to reach over and grab a water bottle, intent on getting some water onto his aching throat.

"You don't mind?" Brett asks hesitantly.

"Mind what?"

"That I disappeared? That she has cancer?"

Liam's jaw drops. "What kind of emotionless prick do you think I am? I mean, of course I mind that she has cancer, that's fucking awful, Brett. But how - you think I'd be mad about it or something?"

"So you aren't going to leave?" Brett questions.

"Of course not."

Brett nods, then sinks low onto the bed and pushes his face into Liam's side. He doesn't make any noise, but the side of Liam's shirt is getting damp - and Liam hates this. Brett's crying, and he's just not good with crying, he doesn't know what to say or do or whether or not to touch or whether Brett just wants him to pretend it's not happening.

He can't do that, though. So he wraps his arms around Brett's body as best he can from this angle, puts his head down on top of Brett's, and curls his body protectively around Brett's. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry about your mom, Brett." 

"Thanks," Brett croaks, his voice breaking.

~*~

They don't talk about it again that day.

Brett stops crying after twenty minutes, and when he shifts, Liam lets him get up to go get tissues without an argument. He doesn't say anything to Brett, and Brett doesn't say anything to him about it, either.

Liam gets not wanting to talk about it. He doesn't like talking about anything. All he ever wanted when he was going through rough patches was for everyone to leave him the fuck alone and let him go to them if he needed help, and he didn't get that luxury. He's at least going to make sure Brett knows he's safe around Liam. 

"Are you gonna say anything?" Brett asks, half an hour later.

"Do you want me to?"

Brett blinks. "No. But I figured you'd want to."

Liam shrugs. "If you wanna talk, I'm here to talk," he says. "But I'm not gonna nag you to tell me. And I won't tell anyone else either, just so you know."

Brett gives him a small smile. "Thanks, Li."

"No problem."

~*~

"Were you ever gonna ask?"

Liam turns to Brett - they're wandering around at the mall closest to Brett's place. Liam's still feeling kind of weak but he's also going crazy from being indoors and not moving.  
"Ask you what?"

"Where I'd gone. Like, I didn't tell you that first day. Took me ages. Would you have asked again?"

"Probably not," Liam answers truthfully. "I mean... I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know. And besides, I was starting to think you were a drug dealer or something." He covers his mouth to cough. "Hayden and Mason thought so too."

"Hayden's out for my blood, though," Brett says.

"She's not out for blood... she just wants to make sure that you aren't a psycho." 

Brett watches him carefully as he says, "You'd think you'd know, huh?"

Liam goes red. "I uh - yeah. I guess. But I... I don't have a lot of experience. Or, you know." He winces. "Any, really. And I trust people way too easily."

"Any?" Brett asks.

"Yeah," Liam says tiredly. "Any. You heard that right." 

"Before Hayden-"

"There wasn't really anyone before Hayden." He'd has kisses, sure - brief, awkward, teeth-gnashing things with giggling, nervous girls on first-and-only "dates" or whatever they were back then. But nothing else. 

Brett nods. "Okay."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No. Kind of cool, actually," Brett says. "I mean - I usually date people with lots of emotional baggage and it's pretty exhausting."

"I didn't say I don't have emotional baggage," Liam replies, and Brett laughs.

"Okay. Then tell me this: who was the first guy you kissed?"

Liam's the one to laugh this time. "I don't think it counts," he chuckles. "This guy - Stiles - he was drunk at a party and I was hanging out with him and his best friend, Scott. Scott was the first guy I had a crush on. Anyway, Stiles kissed me and said he'd mistaken me for his girlfriend."

"That doesn't sound so strange," Brett remarks.

"Malia's five foot ten and has really long hair," Liam says. 

Brett lets out a cackle. "Okay. Now I understand why it's maybe implausible that he'd get you two confused."

"Because of the long hair, right?"

Brett gives him a pitying look, and Liam smiles. 

It's not long before they go back to Brett's - Liam's feeling almost exhausted from the effort of walking and breathing at the same time, and he can't help but wonder how Brett's mom is doing. Maybe that's what prompts him to drag his laptop closer to him, once Brett's in the shower, and pull up a Google search.

Liam's good at researching. It's one of his strong points, he thinks, when it comes to academics - he's really good at finding obscure articles and citations and interpreting them and making them work for him, instead of working around them. So it doesn't take him long to have about twenty tabs open, all to do with lung cancer.

He has to start at the start - he's not a medical student and, despite his stepfather being a doctor, doesn't know much about cancer at all. So far, it's been a vaguely frightening concept that enters his head whenever he thinks about his grandmother and how old she is. 

So his first search is, very simply, lung cancer. Then he's looking at stages, and then he tries to learn the difference between small-cell carcinoma and non-small-cell carcinoma. Before long, he's five journal articles deep about prognosis, treatment options, and long-term survival rates.

He leans back, swallowing. The news isn't exactly good. He can't really wrap his head around how it's staged, but he knows that stage three of a four-stage disease is bad news. That, coupled with the fact that Brett's mom was in the ICU-

The door opens, and Liam slams his laptop shut. Brett looks startled.

"You watching tentacle porn or something?"

Liam winkles his noise. "Fuck no." He takes in the glistening slope of Brett's chest, the muscles in his neck and shoulders as he leans over to get a shirt, and swallows, looks away. He shouldn't be as horny as he is, considering he was just reading about lung cancer.

Brett grins wolfishly and approaches him - he's wearing sweats, but nothing else. "You know," he murmurs, sitting on the bed, "we can start those lessons anytime you want to."

Liam swallows again. "Whenever I want to?"

"Yeah."

"Where do I start?" 

Brett smiles eagerly. "With this." He tugs at the hem of Liam's shirt. "Stop me if you want to."

Liam pulls his shirt off over his head, a little self-consciously. Brett's eyes trail his torso, lingering on the peaks of his collarbones and the broad set of his chest. He's not as big or as obviously tapered as Brett - he has a much more compact build - but he's not small in terms of muscle mass, either.

"I was right," Brett murmurs.

"About what?"

"You have great shoulders." Liam almost loses his breath when Brett reaches out and skims them - starting at his neck, just below his ears, and then moving slowly downward, trailing across the hard nubs of his collarbones and dipping into the vague lines of his triceps. His torso erupts into goosebumps.

Brett smiles. "Like that, huh?"

"Mhm." Liam leans forward and kisses him, hesitantly at first, and then with a little more vigor. He doesn't want Brett to get sick, but seriously, Brett got him worked up, so it's his fault if he does - and he can't sit here and not do anything while Brett slowly but surely pulls him apart at the seams.

It doesn't surprise him when Brett tips him backwards onto the mattress, using only a gentle hand on the back of his neck and head as guidance, but it does surprise him that he's not even remotely reluctant, not even a little bit worried. He knows Brett will stop if Liam signals he wants to. He doesn't even have to consider how he'll get himself out of a tight situation - because there won't be one. 

"I can't believe you're still here," Brett murmurs, pulling away from him a little. "I thought..."

Liam thinks he gets it, even as Brett's lips return to his and he's sprawled out on his back with his phone digging into his shoulder blade uncomfortably. He knows how it feels to assume people will leave once they dig a little deeper and figure him out, know him, learn him. To feel like getting comfortable spells the end of contentedness. He's felt like that his whole life.

"I'm still here," he says aloud, because he thinks Brett needs to hear it.

Brett's lips move to his jaw, then start down his neck - targeting the soft spot just next to the bone, near his throat, before latching on there and beginning to nip, gently, at the fragile skin. Liam wriggles a little, makes a vague whining noise as the pleasure goes straight to his dick. 

Brett lavishes the spot with attention for almost a full minute before he's beginning to move south again - and Liam murmurs, "Brett."

Brett looks up at him, his eyes smoky and dark with desire. And Liam needs him to know that he really, really doesn't know what he's doing. At all.

"I don't know anything," he says finally. "I don't know any - of this, or the relationship side of it, I don't-"

"That's okay," Brett interrupts softly. "I'll teach you, okay? Anything you want to know. I can show you that."

"Anything?" Liam asks, smiling.

"Yeah. Anything. Everything." 

Liam puts his fingers against the tingling mark, nestled on the underside of his jaw, like a little brand. "Can you start with this?"

Brett grins. "You need to be on top of me for that."

"Well, that's not the worst way to start a class."


	8. Eight - Dolente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol my brief stint out of author purgatory didn't last long did it
> 
> So sorry this took so long, guys! It's a little longer than usual, so hopefully that makes up for it ^_^ enjoy!

**Chapter Eight - Dolente**

Liam awakens to a light tap on his shoulder and groans.

“Liam,” a high-pitched voice says. “Liam, Brett wants to know if you’re feeling better.”

Liam opens his eyes. That stupid purple gorilla is in front of him - and its paw is tapping him on the shoulder.

He pauses, wondering briefly if the cocktail of medicine he’s on is giving him vivid hallucinations. He is taking about four of them, after all. Plus, he doubled up on the Emetrol last night when he started vomiting after dinner and couldn’t stop.

He burrows down into the blankets and pillows, hiding his face from the gorilla - he thinks Brett named it Delilah, for some stupid reason. He’d been fine until he agreed to drink some hot chocolate with Brett - it mustn’t have agreed with him, at all, because less than ten minutes later he was hunched over Brett’s toilet bowl miserably.

Delilah taps him again. “Brett’s worried about you,” the voice says. “He thinks you might be dying after last night.”

Liam snuggles down deeper. “Tell Brett I’m embarrassed about last night and I’m hiding from him.”

There’s a long pause. Then, in that same stupid, high-pitched voice - “Brett says that’s a silly thing to worry about. He just wants to make sure you’re okay and ask if you need anything.”

Liam pulls the covers off his face reluctantly, reaches out, and tugs the stuffed gorilla away from Brett’s face, giving him a small smile.

Brett puts Delilah aside; he’s smiling too, a little goofily, obviously pleased that he’s lured Liam out of his soft, warm, self-imposed isolation. “Hey,” he says. “Delilah told me the weirdest shit, you know. She said you’re embarrassed about last night. Why would she say something like that?”

Liam burrows his head down. “If Delilah told you that, you probably need more help than me,” he teases weakly, and Brett gives him a look of mock outrage. Then he stands up - he’s been crouching - and settles onto the bed next to Liam.

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” he says softly. “I’m sorry you got sick. Probably shouldn’t have offered you hot chocolate. Are you better now?”

He’s not hungry, and his stomach kind of hurts. “I’m fine,” he lies.

Brett eyes him sympathetically. “Really. Don’t feel embarrassed,” he repeats. “It’s seriously okay. I’m just worried about you. You were tossing and turning all night.”

Liam closes his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I probably kept you up, huh?” Even his Risperdal wasn’t enough to properly knock him out last night; he’d felt sick and hot and ill at ease, even with Brett lying right beside him - awake, by the sounds of it.

“Not that much.” Liam knows he’s lying, but he appreciates it. “Anyway, I let you sleep in,” Brett says. “I figured you probably needed it. You fell asleep sometime past three.”

Liam nods. There’s a moment of silence; Brett settles a hand on Liam’s arm, a little hesitantly, like he thinks he might get brushed off. Liam kind of wishes Brett would touch him more, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

“Brought you some water,” Brett says softly. “Think you can drink it?”

“Yeah.” Liam begins to sit up and picks up the glass of water on the bedside table, not realising how thirsty he is until he tastes it - then drains the glass. “Thanks.”

“Want something to eat?” Brett asks. “How about a banana?”

“I don’t like bananas,” Liam says, fighting back a smile.

“What?” Brett stares at him, then, in a near-perfect Homer Simpson imitation, “Bananas are an excellent source of potassium!”

Liam can’t help it - he laughs, and Brett beams. “Okay!” he says cheerfully. “I got you out of your cave, you sat up, you had water, you laughed - I’m on a roll. If I told you Bruce Lee was in the kitchen, would that lure you out there?”

“Probably,” Liam says, smiling.

“I bet I could kiss everything better,” Brett says confidently as Liam finally gets out of bed. He shivers a little, grabbing his hoodie off Brett’s desk chair. “I mean… I already left my mark yesterday. But you get what I mean.”

Liam blushes to the roots of his hair. He wouldn’t mind Brett leaving his mark everywhere, to be completely honest; he fingers the marks on his neck and throat absently as they head out to the kitchen counter.

“Remembering your lesson, huh?” Brett teases.

Liam blushes deeper, but he does smile as Brett’s fingers skim the same spot his just were. He remembers it. Vividly.

_“You need to be on top of me for that,” Brett says, smirking._

_“Well, that’s not the worst way to start a class.” Liam does pause though. “Um… I think I need a remedial lesson first,” he murmurs innocently. “Show me again?”_

_Brett grins, dipping his head back down to the column of Liam’s neck and nosing around for a while, his breath heavy and wet and warm on Liam’s skin. He seems to be looking for the right spot; he’s hovering close to Liam, within touching distance._

_Liam reaches out to grasp Brett’s waist, shaking a little. He feels rattled, wondering if touching Brett is okay, but Brett doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sighs against Liam’s skin like he was waiting for something like that to happen._

_“You can touch me wherever you want, Liam,” Brett says softly, and Liam shivers, happy for the instruction - happier that Brett knows he needs it. He tightens his grip - Brett’s body is fiercely warm under his hands, responsive, alive._

_Liam lets out a sound when Brett targets another spot on his neck - this one is much closer to his jugular, and much more sensitive, and as Brett begins to tongue at it experimentally - trying to get a rise out of Liam, probably, trying to work out if he likes this or not - Liam feels the slightest shift in his blood pressure from the weight of Brett’s mouth on him._

_He’s never really thought about it before, but he realises, then, that Brett could probably kill him. He’s big enough, strong enough - bigger and stronger than Liam, at any rate; there’s no way they’re evenly matched - and yet Liam feels totally safe with Brett’s weight bearing down on him._

_He gasps when Brett’s teeth scrape the area his tongue has been lavishing with attention, and his legs fall open of their own accord; Brett rolls up in between them and lies flat on him. They’re skin to skin, touching chest to hips, and this is closer to what Liam’s wanted since he realised he was gay than he’s ever gotten._

_“Like this,” Brett murmurs against his throat. He’s moving a little lower now; Liam tilts his head back so Brett’s got better access and breathes out, a loud exhale that seems to echo, even in the space of Brett’s bedroom._

_He wonders if he can somehow elicit the same noises from Brett - he knows the basic concept of hickies, but he never really tried leaving them on Hayden and she didn’t try it much on him, either. He’s never honestly attempted to give one - or get one, and now he’s got three of them lining his throat, a mini constellation forged with lust. He never thought he’d be the kind of person who wanted to get marked up, but here he is, his dick swelling uncomfortably in his jeans, thoroughly pleased with the faint throbbing sensations left over from Brett’s ministrations._

_He raises his legs, tightens them around Brett’s waist, and uses what must be most of his strength and momentum to roll them over. Brett’s face-up on the bed now, Liam straddling his hips, looking thoroughly shocked._

_Liam breathes out; that definitely took more power than he’d like to admit. Brett must outweigh him by thirty pounds. “My turn.”_

_Brett grins, all teeth, and lets his head drop back onto the bed. “Be my guest.”_

_Liam only hesitates for a second before leaning down. He plants his hands on either side of Brett’s head and decides, at the last second, that actually he’d really like to make out with Brett first - their mouths meet quickly, and their teeth almost click, but he leans back just enough to stop it from happening._

_Brett groans. His hands move, sweeping up Liam’s clothed thighs, then his hips and waist - stopping at the narrowest part of his body and holding on there. His hands are huge, and he’s digging his fingers into the muscles of Liam’s middle back, his thumbs just under his breastplate._

_Liam sighs through his nose; Brett’s holding him pretty securely, and he could get away if he wanted to, but he really, really doesn’t want to. He wishes Brett could hold him all over at once; this doesn’t feel close enough._

_He makes his way down Brett’s face, paying particular attention to his jaw - Brett’s face is ridiculously model-esque, and Liam kind of wishes he could kiss all of it every day._

_“Liam,” Brett breathes._

_He feels a surge of satisfaction; Brett sounds about as undone as Liam feels. When he shifts his hips back slightly, giving himself room to get to Brett’s neck, he feels the heavy, rigid weight of Brett’s dick on his inner thigh._

_He pauses for a moment, then shuffles down a little more, going straight for the junction of Brett’s neck and shoulder. Brett feels like he’s pretty decently endowed; he’s kind of curious and kind of scared and kind of hoping Brett takes the reins from here._

_He’s finished sucking a hickey into Brett’s neck and has started moving to his collarbones when Brett’s hands slide from his waist to his hips - and then to the fastenings on his jeans._

_Liam hesitates. The pause must be long enough to clue Brett in to his nerves, because Brett’s hands suddenly back away from him. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry.” And fuck, Liam really wishes he was a let’s-just-do-it person like Mason, a I’ll-worry-about-getting-to-know-you-later person. But he isn’t. He needs security before he can go any further than this, and he hasn’t quite reached the level he needs._

_He feels disappointed, though - with himself, mostly, for a few things. He’s disappointed for hesitating when he could’ve just let Brett continue, almost disappointed that Brett didn’t push him, and guilty for not having the same attitude to Brett’s advances as he did Noah’s._

_Brett’s hand reaches for the back of his neck, and his fingers sift through the soft, short hairs at the base of his skull. “Liam,” he murmurs. “Come back here.”_

_Liam listens. Brett doesn’t seem mad. So he descends again and lets Brett kiss him until his lips are swollen and bitten red - by Brett’s teeth this time, instead of his own._

Brett’s fingers brush his neck again. “Did a good job,” he says proudly.

“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, feeling weirdly shy.

“So.” Brett flicks the kettle on and puts a banana in front of Liam. “I’m gonna need you to fill out one of those teacher surveys.”

Liam smiles faintly. “Teacher surveys?”

“Yep. You know, "did this teacher effectively communicate in class? Please answer on the provided scale, one meaning strongly agree, ten meaning strongly disagree”. All that shit.“

"They’re called Likert scales,” Liam says with a smile. “Are you really gonna make me fill one out?”

“They have a name?” Brett, noticing Liam hasn’t even touched his banana, picks it up and peels it, then hands it back to him. Liam takes it reluctantly. “And you don’t have to fill one out. I mean… we could do an oral interview.”

“Dude,” Pete’s voice says. “It’s too early.”

“Not that kind of oral interview,” Brett says with a grin as Pete stumbles into the room. He’s wearing flannel pyjama pants and a t-shirt with a Batman logo on the front.

“Whatever. Perv. First you bring home an eighteen year old and defile him on the couch, then you talk about oral interviews while he’s eating a fucking banana. There’s something wrong with you.” Pete drops into the barstool next to Liam. “How’re you feeling, buddy?”

“A bit better,” Liam says - his stomach isn’t happy about the banana. He gestures to Pete’s shirt. “1966 era Batman logo. Nice. Most people have the post-2008 symbol now.”

Pete stares at him for a moment, then turns to Brett. “You know what? Do whatever you want with him. Just please keep him.”

Brett looks at Liam fondly. “You are the biggest dork I know,” he says, and Liam likes that he says it like it’s a good thing.

“So.” Pete stands up and goes to the fridge; Brett puts a mug of tea in front of Liam and gives him a gentle smile. “What’re you two doing today?”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Brett replies, then mouths “drink it” at Liam. Liam hesitates; he’s feeling pretty nauseous and he has to take his Risperdal still. But Brett wouldn’t tell him to drink if he thought it would make Liam sick - not after last night.

Liam picks the mug up and holds it for a bit. His nose is still stuffy and the steam is helping to clear it. He’s really grateful that Brett’s been letting him stay here - the dorms are basically ice boxes of potential illness and stress around this time of year, and the cafeteria has pretty limited food options. Especially considering Brett’s mom…

He sips the tea. He doesn’t particularly like the flavour but the heat of it is soothing on his throat - and it’s pretty sweet, which means Brett probably put honey in it. Maybe to try and make it more palatable.

Brett’s mom. He thinks he’s seen a photo of her, maybe, on one of Brett’s photography walls. The same with his dad and siblings. But it’s probably not a reflection on what she looks like now. Either way, he’s grateful that despite her health scare, Brett apparently still has the time and emotional energy to take care of him as well. He’s just been trying to lie low and stay mostly out of everyone’s way and not cough himself to death.

“Liam?”

He blinks and looks up. Brett’s watching him. “You okay?” he asks slowly. “You don’t have to finish it if you feel sick…”

“I’m okay, I just spaced out.” He takes another sip; it’s actually kind of soothing his stomach. “Thanks.”

“We could go down to the lake,” Brett suggests. “If you’re feeling a little better, that is.”

“Sure.” Liam agrees even though he doesn’t particularly feel that great, or even like he’d like to put real pants on instead of sweats. He needs to get out more.

“Pretty cold out to go to the lake,” Pete says. “You trying to get rid of him by making his cough worse?”

Liam laughs, coughs, wheezes. His head sort of hurts; he hates being sick.

“Yeah, actually,” Brett says, looking at Liam, “the lake… might not be that great an idea.”

“I’m not dying,” Liam groans.

“Yeah, but the cold probably isn’t so good for you either. And I’m not trying to get rid of him. C'mon, Pete, even you think he’s cute.” Brett comes up behind Liam and pulls Liam’s head into his chest, stroking his face with exaggerated care. “How could I want this poor, lost freshman to get sicker?”

“You’re gross,” Pete says. “Also, he looks kind of like Bruce Lee does when we try to give him worming tablets. With less teeth and claws.”

Brett looks down at Liam, who glares up at him.

“Sorry,” Brett chuckles. “Sorry. I was just trying to make a point.”

Liam takes another sip of his tea. “I’m not lost,” he says huffily.

“No?” Brett leans across the counter - he’s making some eggs. “Tell me where you are then, baby.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Pete says. “See you guys later. You’re both disgusting, by the way.”

_Brett just called me baby,_ Liam realises, _and I kind of liked it._

“Um,” he stammers.

“Fuck, I made you blush.” Brett’s grinning as he palms Liam’s cheek. “I love doing that.”

Liam hides his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

Brett’s smile only widens, but he drops it. “So,” he says, sitting down next to Liam, “if we aren’t venturing outside today, what do you wanna do instead?”

“I brought Outlast and Until Dawn with me again,” Liam says innocently.

“Oh, fuck off, we aren’t playing any horror games. I haven’t recovered from last time.” He nods at Liam’s banana, which is finished. “You want something else to eat?”

“Cereal?” Liam asks hopefully.

“Not unless you have almond milk. I reckon that’s what made you sick last night - the milk in your hot chocolate, that is. Milk isn’t really a good idea when you’re congested.”

“Almond milk isn’t milk,” Liam says. “It’s fucking dishwater.”

Brett shakes his head fondly. “You wanna risk getting sick again?”

“… No.”

~*~

Liam - because he’s sort of an asshole - convinces Brett to play Silent Hills P.T with him.

Brett gets about five minutes into the game before he’s a whimpering, trembling mass, bundled up under Liam’s arm and barely even watching the screen. Liam can’t find the game scary with his six foot three boyfriend curled up under his arm, desperately seeking protection.

“You know,” Liam says, “if this were real life, I would have just smashed a fucking window by now.”

“This is why people like you would survive a horror movie,” Brett groans. “You’re genre savvy.”

“TVTropes, huh? Love that website. You wouldn’t survive. You’d be the first to die. You’d be the romantic interest that furthered my character arc.”

“Fuck you, Liam.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” he snickers.

“You know what? I’m gonna go take a shower. Play this God-awful shit all you want. When you have nightmares, guess who won’t be snuggling you?”

“I’m not gonna have nightmares,” Liam says, grinning with every word.

Brett flips him off as he heads into the shower; Liam’s phone goes off a few minutes later.

_From_ : Mase, 11:19AM  
You’ll love this shit dude. Straight up terrifying. Watch with Brett ;)

Liam follows the link through to Reddit, which takes him to a story called The Smiling Man. He reads through it briefly before opening the YouTube link and watching the video.

The further and further into it he gets, the more and more he’s convinced Brett is going to hate him. But he’s gonna show Brett anyway, because he really loves the way Brett cowers against him in fright. It makes him feel warm and needed.

“Brett,” he calls, coughing.

Brett sticks his head out of the bathroom door. “Yeah?”

“I got a video to show you.”

“Okay. Be there in a second.”

Liam closes all the other tabs and turns off the PlayStation before putting the video back at the start. Just as he’s finished, Brett pads in, looking like the picture of comfort in sweats, fuzzy bed socks, and a white t-shirt.

“So what’s this?” Brett asks, settling in with him.

Liam tries not to grin. “Some indie video.”

Brett settles onto the bed. “2AM?” he asks. “Nothing good ever happens at 2AM.”

“You kidding me?” Liam asks. “That’s the best time of the night to make microwave s'mores.”

“… I don’t know how you aren’t morbidly obese. Do you eat anything that isn’t carbs and sugar?”

“Do you worry about the carb and sugar content of everything you put in your mouth?”

“It takes effort to look this good,” Brett huffs, and Liam can’t help but laugh - leans over to kiss Brett’s cheek gently.

“I appreciate it.”

Brett huffs again, but he looks pleased. Liam shakes his head fondly and settles in properly. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah. Where’d you find this?”

“Oh, nowhere,” Liam says. “Mason sent it to me.”

Brett narrows his eyes suspiciously, but he looks to the computer. Liam smothers a grin under the guise of scratching his nose and expands the screen, then hits play.

Brett sits in silence for a moment, watching. Then, “Wow. He’s got a great ass.”

Liam elbows him, but he’s not that mad - Brett’ll get a comeuppance for that remark in less than four minutes. He wonders if he’s a terrible person for showing Brett this, but the possible reaction is too funny not to.

“2AM,” Brett mumbles. “Okay, okay, we get it already, it’s 2AM.”

“Shut up and watch,” Liam chuckles.

Brett freezes when the second man appears on screen, then sinks into Liam’s side like Liam’s made of quicksand. “Oh no,” he whispers. “That is not good.”

Liam has to fight back laughter already. He’s predicting that by the end of the video, Brett will probably be squeezing him in terror.

He’s pretty much right. Brett somehow manages to tuck himself under Liam’s arm - his whole body, too, which is no small feat for someone Brett’s size - and has an arm wrapped over Liam’s stomach. He’s clutching Liam’s hoodie desperately.

“I don’t like this.”

“It’ll be okay.”

It isn’t. The final jumpscare has Brett shrieking like a teenage girl at a One Direction concert and hiding his face in Liam’s side, shivering.

“You’re so brave,” Liam coos, smoothing a hand over Brett’s hair. “I’m actually surprised you made it the entire way through.”

“You’re fucking mean, Li,” Brett moans, wrapping both his arms around Liam’s waist and doing a pretty good impression of a koala clinging to a branch. “Why?”

“I like watching scary things. It’s one of my favourite things to do. And you’re my favourite person, so mixing them can only go well.”

Brett peeks up at him. “I’m going to forgive you because you said I’m your favourite person,” he mumbles. “You better mean that or I’m taking my forgiveness back.”

“I mean it,” Liam says with a smile.

“Okay. But fuck you and your scary shit, seriously.”

“Wanna watch another one?”

“No!”

~*~

“Liam… what is that?”

Liam looks up; Hayden’s staring at him - more specifically, at his jaw. He covers it self-consciously, but he’s got two more on the other side of his neck he’s sure she’s seen.

“Nothing,” he lies.

She grins. “Liam, are those _hickeys?”_

They are, and Brett had seemed pretty satisfied with himself when he’d left them - now Liam knows it was because Brett’s happy to have left them where people would see them. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “So?”

“So you must’ve forgiven Brett,” she says, her smile widening, “unless those are from some other cute boy.”

“I wasn’t mad at him,” Liam says, realising as he does that it’s the truth - he was never mad at Brett. Hurt, yes, sad, yes, but not really angry. “But uh, I guess, yeah. And what the - where the fuck would I find another cute boy? I had enough trouble with this one.”

Hayden ignores the last part of his question. “As long as he doesn’t do it again,” she says darkly, crossing an item off the inventory list with a little more force than necessary. “Seriously-”

“You’ll break his neck, make him wish he’d never been born, etcetera etcetera,” Liam finishes for her. “He won’t. He explained what happened. It’s fine now.”

She raises an eyebrow, but ultimately she lets it go. “How’s your pneumonia?”

“Gone, mostly,” he says with a shrug. “Kind of tired still. Thanks for driving me around that day, I probably owe you a bag of Hershey’s or something.”

“You don’t, but I’ll take it.”

The bell to the shop rings; Liam looks up to see Brett sidling in carefully, holding two coffees. He looks tired again - Liam didn’t hear from him last night, and he hopes everything’s okay. He sent a few texts off, but they were nothing important, and he didn’t want Brett to have yet another thing to worry about.

He sees Hayden’s spine stiffen and turns to her. “Please be nice,” he whispers. “I can’t tell you what’s going on but-”

“Hey,” Brett says with a faint smile. “Fancy seeing you here.” He looks at Hayden, then, almost nervously. That’s when Liam remembers the voicemail she left Brett before taking Liam to the doctor. “Hey, Hayden. If I’d known you were here I would’ve brought you one too.”

“That’s okay,” she says, surprising Liam - doubly so with the warm smile she gives Brett. “And now that you’re here, I can go on my lunch break and not worry that someone’s going to maul him.”

Liam winces. It’s true that Garrett’s still showing up to the store and that Noah occasionally comes in to pester him - aiming for casual and unconcerned and falling a few miles short every time. Hayden’s made a few jokes about beating them off him with a stick.

Hayden scruffs his hair up as she leaves; Liam shakes her off and glares haughtily, but it just makes her laugh. When she’s gone, Brett turns to him.

“She was nice.”

“Mm,” Liam says. “Coffee. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Brett leans on the counter. “Sorry I didn’t get back to your texts.”

“That’s okay,” Liam says, surprised. “They weren’t important. Sorry if they bugged you.”

“Bugged me?” Brett smiles a little. “They were nice. I enjoyed getting them. Even I don’t answer, I am reading them, you know? I’m sorry I didn’t, I-”

“You don’t owe me an explanation or anything,” Liam interrupts. “If you want to talk, go for it. But you don’t have to explain.”

Brett gives him a wobbly smile. “Thanks.”

Liam shrugs awkwardly and sips his coffee; it’s still kind of too hot to drink. He’s surprised when Brett’s hand wraps around his, over the top of his disposable cup. Brett’s hands are cold.

“I mean it,” Brett says. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He means it. “I don’t like people bugging me about personal shit either.”

Brett nods slowly. “So,” he murmurs. “What’re you doing today?”

“Not much. I finish work in…” Liam turns to look at the clock. “An hour and a half. Why?”

“Wanna do something?”

“Yeah, sure.” Liam smiles; Brett’s hand is still holding his, wrapped around the coffee cup. “What were you thinking of?”

“I dunno, I just…” Brett shrugs. “I just didn’t really feel like being alone today and I don’t wanna think about yesterday. So if you don’t mind entertaining me…” Brett trails off; Liam can feel his hand shaking a little. He moves so he can hold both of them.

“So let’s do something,” he says. “We could go to the arcade. Or see a movie. Or - I think they just opened an exhibit at the museum.”

Brett nods along, but nothing seems to jump out at him. Liam’s mind spins its wheels frantically in the mud of his thoughts.

_Think, Liam. What do you like doing when you’re down?_

“Or,” he says, “we can go to Walmart, buy a fuckton of junk food, and hang out somewhere. Just play video games or watch something.”

“That sounds pretty good,” Brett says. “Is it… is it okay if we go to your dorm?”

“Yeah, of course. Mason might be there.”

“That’s fine. It’s his dorm too, right?”

Liam nods. “Well, uh - like I said, I don’t get off for another hour and a half. But you can hang out behind the counter if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Hey, are you cold?” Brett’s shivering a little. “There’s a hoodie in my bag.”

“Will it fit me?” Brett asks, but he unzips Liam’s backpack. “Thanks.” It does fit him, because even though Liam’s short, he’s also broad. To look good on Brett it would probably need to be sized up, but it fits.

He takes a long drag on his coffee, sighing as the liquid energy hits his tongue. “Okay. I got inventory to do.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“I can’t.” Liam gives a small smile as he picks up his pen and paper. “I need this job to pay for my Pop Tart addiction.” He does, however, lean over and give Brett a quick kiss on the cheek - it feels kind of awkward, but Brett looks like he needs it.

He climbs up his stepladder to start crossing things off and smiles ruefully when he realises where he is. “Hey,” he says to Brett. “Remember that time a shelf fell on me?”

“You mean do I remember that time Garrett knocked a shelf over on you?” Brett asks.

“Yeah. That.”

“Of course. I thought you were dead. Why?”

Liam chuckles. “I just - I just remembered it is all. Remember you took me for Japanese after? And you kept asking if my head hurt and I kept saying it was fine. It wasn’t fine, it was killing me, but I really wanted to spend time with you.”

“Really?” Brett asks. “Already?”

“Yup.”

“Why?” Brett’s come to stand next to his ladder.

“You were nice to me,” Liam says with a small smile. “And you didn’t really seem to mind that I’m, you know, sort of neurotic.”

“You aren’t neurotic. You’re shy. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I am also sort of neurotic,” Liam insists, but he’s smiling a little. “You just haven’t seen it yet, that’s all.”

“Fifth date, right?” Brett asks.

“Right,” Liam confirms. “Which, by the way, is mine.”

“Yours?” Brett sounds confused.

“Mine. I’m taking you out. I don’t know when… and I don’t know how, or where… or what… but I’m going to take you out on a date.”

“That sounds fantastic,” Brett says. “I love a good plan.”

Liam laughs.

Hayden comes back to the shop ten minutes later, holding her lunch, Liam’s, and even a cookie for Brett - which she passes over with a carefully blank expression Liam recognises as her very, very best attempt not to scowl, and says, “Eat it.”

Brett looks bemused - and a little scared, really - but he takes the cookie and starts to eat it slowly. “Thank you?” he says, making it sound like a question.

“It would have been rude for us to eat if you hadn’t had anything,” Hayden mutters.

Liam grins. It’s killing her to have to extend an olive branch of peace to Brett, and it’s hilarious - and kind of touching - to watch her try and be nice to him purely for Liam’s benefit. Aiming to lighten the mood a little - Brett doesn’t seem to know how to react to her kindness, and Hayden doesn’t seem to know what to do with Brett’s dropped guard - he says, “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not because she likes you.”

“Good to know the status quo is the same, then,” Brett quips quickly.

Hayden looks like she’s about to physically burst with the pressure of containing her vitriol, and Liam’s grinning so widely his cheeks hurt. “Take pity on her,” he says to Brett.

Brett rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, you can say one mean thing,” he says.

“You aren’t cute enough for Liam,” Hayden says sullenly, “I just want that known.”

They both laugh this time. “Okay, Hayden - who’s cute enough for him?” Brett teases.

“No one. He’s my best friend. No one’s good enough for him.”

Liam smiles, feeling kind of warm and fuzzy about her declaration - he even leans over to kiss her cheek, which is out of character for him. “Thanks, Hayds.”

“Hey, she just said I’m not cute enough for you!” Brett splutters.

“Well, I think you’re plenty cute,” Liam soothes. “So don’t worry.”

“You’re both gross and I’m forever alone,” Hayden says mournfully.

“I don’t see how,” Brett says. “You’re pretty.”

Hayden goes a little pink around her cheeks and falls totally silent. “Kindness is her kryptonite,” Liam warns Brett. “Compliment her and she turns into a pile of mush.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Brett teases. He seems to be in infinitely better spirits. “Okay, if we’re doing honesty hour or whatever, I have one.”

Hayden looks suspicious - she’s just kicked Liam under the counter - and says, “Yeah?” in a drawn out, wary voice.

“I didn’t mean to ghost on Liam,” Brett says, “and I’m not going to do it again.”

There’s a brief silence; Hayden seems shocked by Brett’s confession, which has turned the mood in the store on its head. Then, “Okay. I’m sorry I left you lots of really, uh… not… so nice voicemail messages.”

Liam looks between them warily. “Are you guys actually making peace?”

“It works better than arguing over who’s going to take your temperature,” Hayden says dryly. “Seriously, Liam, you weren’t awake for it, but-”

“We sort of had a Mexican stand-off in your dorm room over who was gonna look after you,” Brett finishes for her sheepishly. “The whole reason we were both on your bed was because we couldn’t come to an agreement so we just-”

“Sat there in stubborn silence until you woke up,” Hayden says.

Liam can’t help it; he starts to laugh, loudly. “You two are such losers.”

“What! We both went there to care for you, on your sickbed, you ungrateful little prick!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Liam giggles, leaning over to give Brett a brief kiss. “I’m sorry, I know. Just… the whole concept that you were fighting over who was going to take better care of me… that’s hilarious. I’m sorry. Thank you for caring.”

“We embarrassed ourselves in front of Mason,” Hayden mumbles. “He told us to just let you sleep and that you’d be fine.”

“Sounds like Mason was the level-headed one for once.” Mason’s usually the one who worries obsessively about getting sick, or Liam getting sick, or both of them being sick at once.

The bell rings, and a family of people comes in; Liam sighs as he goes to greet them, tell them his name, and offer to help them find things. Predictably, they ask for the newest Top 40 CD’s, and he leads them to the shelves.

The rest of his shift is like that - assisting customers, punctured with brief moments of conversation. When it’s over, he bids Hayden goodbye and grabs his things from the break room.

Brett’s waiting for him out the front. “Walmart?” he asks, smiling.

“Yeah.” Liam’s happy to be getting to spend time with Brett; their work and class schedules don’t line up nearly as neatly as Liam would like them to, so having whole afternoons and nights together is rare.

Liam puts his things in Brett’s car, barring his wallet and phone, before they head into Walmart. Liam shivers as they finally step out of the cold breeze; it’s just gone three, and even though winter is fading slowly from the air, Liam’s still not very well acclimatised to the cold. He’s spent most of winter dreading getting out of bed in the morning because it’s freezing and dreading getting into bed for the same reasons.

“So what are we getting?” Brett asks. “Anything in particular?”

Liam wanders up the aisles aimlessly. “Whatever we feel like,” he murmurs distractedly before throwing a packet of cookies into their basket, which Brett is carrying. “And…” he hesitates before grabbing a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups.

“I don’t know how you aren’t fat,” Brett says, amazed.

“I work out. This is sort of the only reason I do it.”

“So you can eat junk food?” Brett laughs.

“Hey, I’ve got a really bad sweet tooth,” Liam whines. “Leave me alone.”

“Okay, okay,” Brett chuckles as he adds some potato chips to the basket. “Sure. I’m just saying.”

“Sugar, carbs, I’ll be fat when I’m thirty, I don’t give a fuck,” Liam says, and Brett laughs.

“Why don’t you try salad?”

“You ever seen Parks and Rec?”

“No?”

“Well I just figured out what we’re doing tonight. Anyway there’s this guy on it, Ron, who’s like… the quintessential middle-aged American man, right? He calls salad "expensive leaf nonsense” and I couldn’t agree with him more.“

"I love the way you use words like "quintessential” in every day conversation,“ Brett says fondly. "You’re like a really hot, smart nerd.”

Liam feels his cheeks going red. “Shut up. We’re in public. Don’t humiliate me.”

“Aww,” Brett coos playfully as Liam huffs and searches for more junk food. “Did I embarrass you?”

“No, I’m blushing for fun,” Liam deadpans.

“Here.” Brett tosses a Hershey’s bar into the basket. “This’ll make you feel better.”

“Unlikely,” Liam mutters, but he’s satisfied, secretly. “Now that we’ve got enough junk food to last us through the zombie apocalypse, you wanna go?”

“Sounds good.”

They’re out of there in ten minutes - Liam has a heated discussion with the self-serve checkout terminal, much to Brett’s amusement - and make their way back to Brett’s car.

“Hey, Liam!”

“Oh, fuck me,” Liam says moodily. He knows it’s Noah before he turns around; Noah, much like Brett, has seemingly memorised his work schedule. He looks pleased to see Liam, and for a moment, Liam really feels like he’s the asshole here.

Then Noah spots Brett, and his expression goes cold. “So you’re still with him, huh?”

“I have a name,” Brett says dryly. “Which I’m sure you know by now.”

“You wanna catch up?” Noah asks, so hopefully Liam still finds a part of himself to feel guilty with.

“I’m hanging with Brett tonight,” he says.

“Hanging, huh?” Noah asks.

Liam resists the urge to make his annoyance obvious and says, “Yeah. We haven’t seen each other in a while, so-”

“Well, neither have we,” Noah says.

“That’s not true,” Liam points out, “you come into work whenever you think I’ll be there, and anyway, we aren’t together, if we ever were in the first place.”

“So it’s serious, then?” Noah asks.

“Jesus Christ, dude, yeah.”

Noah hesitates. “So is it like… Facebook official, or…?”

“That’s cute,” Brett says.

“What’s cute?” Noah demands.

“That you use social networking as some sort of arbitrary measurement of relationship seriousness,” Brett says. Liam’s stomach lurches; he’s never really heard Brett sound outright pissed off, but he sure as hell does now. Not that he can blame Brett, exactly, because he’s feeling pretty pissed off too. He dated Noah for all of five seconds and this is what he gets.

“Problem?” Noah asks. “You seem annoyed.”

Brett snorts incredulously. “You think?”

“Look, we’re gonna get going,” Liam says. “I’ll see you around, Noah.”

“Fine, bye.”

They head back to Brett’s car; Brett’s taking long strides, and Liam almost has to jog to keep up. “Sorry,” he says.

“What’s up his ass?” Brett asks. “Nothing good, obviously.”

Liam can’t help but laugh at that. “Think he’s a little sore I’m with you now.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe, funnily enough.” Brett turns to him outside the car. “Why didn’t you tell me he was bugging you at work?” he asks softly. “I could’ve done something.”

Liam shakes his head. “It isn’t important. He’s not gonna do anything, y'know? Besides, you had other stuff on your mind, and I didn’t wanna bug you.”

“Are you worried about him?”

“Not really, no. It’s annoying, but not like… scary or anything.”

Brett sighs deeply. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me stuff because of my mom, Liam,” he says. “You can. I’ve always got time for you.”

Liam smiles, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets and hunching his shoulders against the wind; the sun’s already beginning to set. “Thanks,” he says. “I know. It just wasn’t that important. It didn’t matter.”

Brett nods and sighs. “Hey, can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Liam says eagerly, stepping in close and standing on his toes. Brett’s warmth envelopes him in a cloud, and Liam sighs as their lips connect. It’s a soft kiss, gentle - meant for comfort, not for anything else.

Brett pulls back after a moment. “You look like you’re gonna freeze if we stay out here much longer. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

They get into the car and Brett plugs his phone into the auxiliary cord - usually, he fucks with Liam by putting music on and seeing how many times Liam can correctly identify the song, but tonight he settles for a playlist.

“You know, I know what you’re doing,” Liam says, trying to cheer Brett up.

“What’s that?”

“When you put the music on and you try to make me guess what song it is?” Liam asks. “Every time I get a song right, you promise me junk food or kiss me. You’re using fucking Pavlovian conditioning on me, you asshole. I’m not fucking Shazam.”

Brett’s thing is that he wants to know what the songs are called, probably so he can illegally download them, and Liam - working in a music store - has an almost knee-jerk reaction to most of the music he hears. Brett seems to have wised up to that, and now it seems to be Liam’s job to work the song out for him.

Brett laughs a little, but the sound is hollow. “You’re way better than some stupid app.”

“Yes, but I’m not as smart as the app,” Liam says. “I’ll undoubtedly fuck up at some point and be unable to live with your disappointment. I’ll drop out, get addicted to Starbucks-”

“Stop,” Brett laughs. “I’m moping.”

“Want me to leave you to mope?” Liam knows he prefers to be left in his misery.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” Brett sighs. “Sometimes-”

“You just have to be down,” Liam finishes, and when Brett looks at him, surprised, says, “I get it, don’t worry.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

Liam fidgets a little. They’re quiet the whole way back to Liam’s dorm room and until they enter - Mason’s left a note on their whiteboard to say he’s pulling a double shift at work and won’t be home until really late.

Once they get inside, Liam works up the courage to say, “I’m not sure if I’m meant to ask, really, but… how’s your mom doing?”

He kind of wishes he hadn’t, because it has the immediate effect of making Brett’s hands shake and turning his eyes red. He’s about to backtrack and apologise when Brett croaks, “Thanks for asking. She’s, uh. Hasn’t been so good lately, really. We aren’t too sure what’s - the chemo’s fucking with her. Worse than the last time.”

Liam nibbles his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling helpless. He’s done research into lung cancer almost every night since Brett told him, and the prognosis isn’t good. Out of the almost two million people diagnosed, only two hundred thousand survive past five years.

Brett nods. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

Liam nods, then steps in closer and hugs Brett carefully. He flicks the kettle on as he crosses the room, intending on making them both something warm to drink. That always helps.

Brett stands there for a while, his chin on Liam’s head, before he clears his throat and says, “Your dorm’s freezing, Liam.”

“The heaters are sort of busted,” Liam admits. “That’s why Mason and I both have nests.”

“Mind if I claim your nest?”

“Nope.”

He can feel Brett’s eyes on him as he makes them both coffee and takes it back to the bed, careful not to spill any as he places both mugs on his bedside table. “So,” he says. “What do you wanna do?”

Brett chews his lip thoughtfully. “Got anything to watch?”

“Loads.”

“Surprise me.”

Liam’s halfway through putting on How To Get Away With Murder - Brett seriously has to see this fucking show, Liam _needs_ to talk about it to someone, and Mason’s not up to date - when Brett clears his throat carefully and says, “I um. I told… I told my parents about you.”

Liam turns, surprised. “Really?”

“I, well, sort of.” Brett looks uncomfortable, almost overwhelmed. “I told them I was seeing someone, just… not which gender. I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

Liam smiles. He thinks that might be the most considerate someone’s ever been of him. “Thanks. You can tell them; I don’t mind.”

“Well, in that case, you wanna come round for dinner sometime?” Brett asks nervously. “Dad makes great food. And it’s all organic, steamed, washed… he’s kind of a germophobe with Mom’s cancer.”

“Yeah, I’ll come round,” Liam says. “I’d love to meet your family.”

“Okay.” Brett looks relieved. “Just… don’t be surprised if Dad’s kind of… weird. He was weird about my last boyfriend too. He’s not… you know, he’s not exactly homophobic, I just don’t think he really gets it. Mom’s gonna love you, though.”

“Shit,” Liam realises aloud. “Hey, not anytime soon, okay?”

“Why not?” Brett looks dejected.

“I’m still on antibiotics - and I’m still coughing, too. Probably shouldn’t be around your mom, right? Doesn’t chemo like destroy the immune system or something? She might catch something off me.”

Brett stares at him for a moment, blinks, and starts to cry.

“Oh,” Liam says. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” Brett’s not openly sobbing, or even making any noise - there’s just tears rolling slowly down his cheeks and that’s somehow infinitely worse. “I’m really, really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Brett croaks, tugging Liam to sit, on his calves, between his legs. Liam settles there nervously, his hands on his knees. “Just - that’s really thoughtful of you. To think of that.”

“So… these are… happy tears?” Liam asks hesitantly.

Brett chokes on a laugh. “Fuck, I dunno. I don’t know anymore. Thank you.”

“For what? I made you cry.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” Brett teases weakly. “I’ve been on the verge for the past two days. Not that this is where I wanted it to happen.”

“It’s okay,” Liam says, still feeling like he’s saying all the wrong things. “I don’t mind. I really don’t.”

“I know you don’t.” Brett pulls Liam a little closer again, runs his hands affectionately down Liam’s forearms. “That’s what I’m thanking you for. And for staying.”

“Why would I leave?” Liam shuffles up closer to Brett, between his legs, so that Brett doesn’t have to reach to touch him. He’s enjoying Brett’s casual, loving affection.

Brett shakes his head. “You kidding me, Liam?” he asks. “You had every right to dump me after what happened last week, and you didn’t. When I told you there was a good reason for it, but wouldn’t say what… you believed I was telling you the truth, and you stayed. And then when I told you, you stayed again.”

“Why would I leave over something like that?” Liam asks quietly. “Dude, your mom’s sick. I’m not heartless. If I left… that wouldn’t be why.”

Brett flips Liam’s hand over and starts stroking the lines in his palm. “Other people have,” he says quietly.

“Huh?” Liam asks. “Other people have left after finding out?”

“Yeah.” Brett clears his throat. “My last partner. He uh… I’d been with him for almost two years when Mom got diagnosed. I think it was three days after we were told that he said he couldn’t deal with it and left. Only time I heard from him afterwards was because he wanted some money for weed.”

Liam knows his mouth is slightly open with shock. “That’s fucking cold,” he says. “That’s… Jesus, what the fuck? _Two years?_ And he fucking _left?”_

“Yeah.” Brett looks like he’s back on the brink of crying again. “I needed him and he wasn’t there.”

For once in his life, Liam makes a concentrated effort to reign in his temper and simmer down and actually think before responding. Self-righteous rage won’t help Brett, or Brett’s mom, or anyone else. Any judgment Liam passes is only gonna hurt more.

He pulls his sleeves over his hands and uses them to wipe Brett’s cheeks and eyes carefully. “I am,” he says quietly.

Brett nods. The action causes more tears to come loose from his eyelashes; he rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam says, and he’s back to feeling helpless. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You know what’s really fucked, though?” Brett asks. “I mean, what’s really the icing on this fucking shitty cake?”

“What?”

“We were so fucking stoked, because eight months after the initial diagnosis, she went into remission,” Brett says. “It was fucking gone. Her hair even started growing back, you know? She was so happy just to have an inch of hair - the day it got longer than mine she stopped wearing beanies and headscarves. And she was in remission for almost a whole year. And then we went in for a fucking routine scan, and we were starting to feel normal again, and we weren’t scared anymore, and it was back. And it’s bad this time. It’s like, the universe wasn’t loud enough when it said fuck you the first time.”

_Small-cell lung cancer has an overall 5-year survival rate of six percent_ , Liam remembers. Six percent. It’s a tiny number when the statistics are human.

“The only reason she’s survived so long is because they caught is so early at the start,” Brett whispers. “Like, one or two tumours in her lungs, and they shrunk them down and cut them out. That’s the only reason she’s even still alive. But this time, it’s…”

Liam’s almost afraid to ask. “Is it terminal?” he asks softly.

Brett sniffs. “Not yet. They haven’t told us that yet. They said she’s got a good chance. Well. A relatively good chance. But doctors are meant to be optimistic.”

Liam knows that. His stepfather’s a doctor. They’re also supposed to be realistic, but Liam’s stepdad did always say that was a much harder part of the job.

“If you need anything,” Liam says, “any time - night, day, whatever - just call me, okay? I’m not your ex. I’m not gonna ditch you for this.”

Brett nods. “Thanks.”

They’re quiet for a while. Liam’s heart is heavy. He can’t imagine how Brett feels.

“I need something now, actually,” Brett says.

“Yeah?” Liam perks up.

“I really need to not think about it. Just for a bit.”

“Okay.” Liam settles in next to Brett with the PlayStation controller. “So there’s this show… and, okay, you have to give me your opinion once we’ve finished the first season. I’m gonna ask the question now so you can think about it: who’s hotter, Connor or Oliver?”

Brett frowns. “I’m not going to remember their names.”

“Oh yes you are.”

~*~

“Oliver,” Brett says.

Liam yawns and lifts his head sleepily. “Huh?”

He’s lying with his head in Brett’s lap, half-asleep and drunk off Brett’s warmth and scent. Brett’s been stroking his hair idly for three episodes - they watched a few, took a break, went for a run, had some food, went and got some actual dinner, and then came back to keep watching.

“You asked me which is hotter. Oliver.”

Liam turns his head, smiling drowsily. “He’s cute. I still think Connor’s hotter though.”

“You would. Connor’s disgustingly charming and well put-together. Nope, Oliver. He seems nice and emotionally stable. And he wears glasses. Glasses are cute as hell.” Brett taps the bridge on Liam’s, smiling. “Case in point. Hey, you’re totally falling asleep.”

“Guilty,” Liam yawns, sitting up. Brett takes his phone out of his pocket, yawning.

“Shit. It’s almost eleven.”

Liam nods. He’s warm here, curled up with Brett, under his blankets with frost on the window. Mason’s working and isn’t going to be back for a while.

Brett sighs. “I guess I should go. Before I’m too sleepy to drive.”

Liam hesitates for a moment. “Don’t go,” he says softly.

Brett turns to him. “Huh?”

Liam smiles, tilts his head. “Stay.”

Brett looks at him for a moment. “Stay longer?” he asks quietly. “Or stay the night?”

“Stay the night,” Liam says boldly - he’s feeling brave and he wants Brett to know that his dorm is a safe place if that’s what he needs.

Brett smiles like that was the answer he was hoping for. “Okay. Your bed is ridiculously small and we’re both going to be uncomfortable, but yeah. I’ll stay.”

“You can sleep on me,” Liam promises.

“I’ll crush you.”

“I’m not made of glass. Dick.”

Brett chuckles.

They get ready for bed - Brett only wears his boxers and a t-shirt, which is less than Liam’s ever seen him wear, and his mouth goes dry when he looks. Brett’s wearing boxer briefs that cling to every taut muscle in his legs, and his t-shirt is fairly well-fitting too. Brett’s about a million hard, solid lines and endless planes of spotless, hairless skin, and Liam kind of wants to put his mouth all over him.

“Nice boxers,” Brett teases.

“Shut up,” Liam grumbles. He’s wearing boxers that have cartoon Supermans all over them. “I didn’t really think I’d have company, you know?” He takes his antibiotic and measures out his dose of Risperdal. Brett smirks.

“They’re cute,” he chuckles. “Let me guess - Christmas present from a female relative who doesn’t know you very well?”

“Damn, you’re good,” Liam says. “Aunt Shelley. She’s kind of… uh… I think eccentric is the word I’m looking for here.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he squirts his Risperdal into his mouth. The liquid is foul - he should switch to tablets, he knows that - and leaves a chemical burn as it slips down his throat. His eyes water threateningly.

“That looks terrible,” Brett murmurs sympathetically.

Liam leans over, rinses, spits, and swallows some water. Their dorm room has a sink and a mirror, but no actual bathroom. Which Liam doesn’t understand.

“Yeah,” he croaks, shuddering. “It’s terrible stuff.” He heads over to the bed - Brett’s scooted back against the wall, and when Liam reaches him, he lifts the covers and smiles warmly.

Liam gets fucking butterflies, which is thoroughly ridiculous and unappreciated. He climbs into the narrow dorm bed with Brett; it creaks, and it’s so small that they can’t have more than a few inches of space between them, but it’s cosy.

Brett smiles at him. His face is close. “Why don’t you take tablets?”

“I wouldn’t swallow them when I was a kid, and I never transitioned, and now I can’t really be bothered,” Liam admits. His legs tangle with Brett’s; Brett’s feet are freezing, but Liam lets him put them on his calves. After all, Brett’s wrapping an arm under his neck and one over his waist, and Liam’s on his way to being thoroughly cuddled, which he can’t say he opposes.

“And,” Liam murmurs, “they’re a fucking nightmare to get hold of, you know? They’re pretty hardcore antipsychotics and their use is being limited right now because apparently they weren’t tested well enough. I don’t wanna risk switching and then not being able to get it.”

Brett nods. “Yeah. I get it.” He watches as Liam yawns. “Oh yeah, they knock you around, huh?”

Liam covers his mouth; his eyes are watering. “Yeah.”

“Well hey, don’t let me stop you from sleeping.”

Liam grins drowsily. “You wouldn’t be able to if you wanted to,” he says, leaning back against the pillow. It feels like a cloud underneath him; he usually doesn’t notice falling asleep, or how tired he is, just because of his meds. It kind of fucks with his perception of how awake or sleepy he actually is. “You know,” he mumbles, “my psychiatrist wants to switch me to a combination of fluoxetine and lithium.”

“Liam, hey,” Brett says, looking slightly uncomfortable. “You seem kind of out of it, okay? Don’t tell me anything you wouldn’t if you were a little more conscious.”

Liam thinks for a moment. Brett should know. And he’s on a roll. “I’m not,” he mumbles sleepily. “You should know anyway… about all this stuff.”

“Yeah. Okay. But on your terms, not because you’re under the influence. Tell me in the morning.” Brett gives him a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. “Sleep.”

“Mm.”

~*~

Liam wakes up warm, soft, and sleepy still, ensconced in Brett’s arms.

He blinks drowsily; it must only be about seven, judging by the light filtering weakly through the window over his bed - and his cheeks have a lingering iciness to them too, like the chill in the air is still a concern.

Brett’s spooning him, his legs tangled up in Liam’s, breathing into the back of his head. One arm is under Liam’s neck; the other is draped over his waist loosely.

He smiles sleepily and uses his own arm to cover Brett’s, threading their fingers together and squeezing, still weak with the lingering grogginess. Brett’s hand is still, but warm, inside his own.

He looks around. Mason’s awake, sitting on his bed with his laptop out and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Liam’s never understood why Mason doesn’t use his desk; the way his spine is curved can’t be good for him.

Mason notices him move - as soon as he realises Liam’s awake, he’s grinning hugely and giving him a double thumbs up. Liam chuckles drowsily and tucks his face against Brett’s arm; it’s so hard to wake up with someone else’s body heat seeping through his clothes and into his skin.

“Morning, Mase,” he mumbles.

“Dude!” Mason says excitedly.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’m so jealous of you,” Mason says, but he’s still grinning. “Dude, you have landed literally the hottest person around. _And_ he’s three years older than you.”

“I didn’t land him.” Liam yawns, rubbing his face against the smooth inner skin of Brett’s bicep. “I didn’t do any work.”

He feels Brett smile into the back of his neck and begins to blush; he hadn’t realised Brett was actually awake, which means he’s heard the whole conversation and can feel Liam nuzzling him. He hasn’t said anything, though.

“That’s better,” Mason says decisively.

“If you say so. How’re things with Corey?”

“I’m working on it,” Mason says. “I figure, you know, Brett basically just showed up and fed you every time you were working. It’s gotta work on Corey too, right?”

Liam yawns and rolls a little; Brett tightens his arm around Liam’s waist playfully, making him wheeze.

“I thought Brett was hot the moment he stepped into the shop,” Liam points out. Brett’s arm releases him, and he starts stroking a strip of flesh on Liam’s side affectionately. Liam feels a shiver bolt up him.

“Well, that undoubtedly made it a lot easier for him,” Mason sighs. “I don’t think Corey even knows I like him.”

“How could he not know?” Liam wonders. “You show up to every shift and you buy him coffee and you pester him about stuff you aren’t even interested in. The signals are pretty clear.” Brett’s hand moves around to his lower back, palm flat, fingers only moving slightly to scratch. Liam closes his eyes.

“Dude,” Mason says. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Liam asks.

“That’s exactly what Brett did to you!” Mason exclaims. “And you didn’t realise!”

“Yeah, but I’m dumb like that.”

Brett shifts, closer to Liam, draping his body over Liam’s like a blanket. His hand moves from Liam’s back to his belly, right above his boxers.

“Maybe you should ask Brett,” Liam says. “Seeing as he’s awake and everything.”

Brett jerks and laughs while Mason splutters. “Awake?”

“The whole time, pretending not to be,” Liam says.

Mason sighs. “What do you think, dude?”

“The dense ones are the cute ones.” Liam swallows; Brett’s voice is low and rough with sleep. As he says it, his fingers inch towards Liam’s boxers, tantalisingly slow - then stop and back away again. Liam huffs, feeling frustrated.

“Well, I know that,” Mason says. “But being dense doesn’t make them easy to pick up.”

“I’m right here,” Liam says. “In case you’d forgotten.”

“Hey, we’re talking about you, not to you,” Brett scolds, but his hand squeezes Liam’s hip affectionately. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“I can’t just tell him,” Mason says. “I have a projected plan for the next two weeks. I know exactly what I’m going to do. The plan is gonna work.”

“You have a projected plan?” Liam asks. “For… what?”

“For successfully wooing him,” Mason says confidently.

Liam closes his eyes, feeling exhausted at the idea of constructing a plan like that. “I don’t even have a projected plan for _today,_ ” he mumbles sadly.

“Aww.” Brett laughs a little. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t have a plan for next week, either, or next month-”

“We have finals coming up. The plan is to study.”

Liam moans and pulls his pillow over his face.

“Don’t talk to him about anything productive before you’ve fed him,” Mason advises. “Otherwise he has these sad little mini-meltdowns that he can only be coaxed out of with Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

“Fuck you, Mase.”

“Is that true?” Brett laughs, tugging at his pillow. “Liam?”

Liam grumbles. “Yes.”

“Oh, God. That’s adorable.”

“It’ll stop being adorable around the time you realise you’re going through two loaves of bread every couple of days,” Mason says, but when Liam lowers the pillow, he’s grinning. “Payback for me drinking all the coffee.”

“Damn right,” Liam mumbles.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce,” Mason says, standing up.

Liam squints; he can’t see very well from the combination of sleep in his eyes and not wearing his glasses. “Where to? It’s Saturday.”

“Corey’s working,” Mason says.

“Just don’t get a restraining order taken out on you,” Liam says idly.

“Wanna be the best best friend ever and tell me how to avoid that?” Mason asks sweetly. “Pretty please?”

“No. If you get a restraining order taken out on you, you’ll deserve it.”

“Harsh,” Mason sighs. “But probably true. See you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Mason,” Brett says.

The door shuts; Brett almost immediately coaxes Liam onto his back and leans up on one elbow, his other hand on Liam’s waist. “Morning,” he says, smiling. “You snitch.”

Liam grins. “Sorry.”

“No you aren’t.” Brett lowers his head and kisses Liam softly, nibbling on his lower lip a little before soothing it with the pad of his tongue. Liam’s stomach explodes into butterflies at the sensation; he feels like there’s about a thousand of them in there.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he whispers, feeling sort of self-conscious.

“Neither have I,” Brett murmurs, claiming Liam’s lips again. His hand travels up Liam’s body - slow along the lines of his ribs, teasing a little at his nipple, before eventually coming to the slope of his neck and shoulder and anchoring there. By the time it arrives at its destination, Liam’s started to shiver helplessly.

“You cold?” Brett asks.

“No,” Liam mumbles, a little embarrassed.

“Oh.” Brett grins. “Okay. Well, that I can deal with.” He tugs at Liam. “C'mon, you on top. I like it when you’re on top.”

Liam grins and goes to flip them over - only stopping when Brett’s back hits the wall with a loud thud, and he groans.

“Fuck these dorm beds. They’re so small.”

“Sorry,” Liam says, trying not to grin. “You okay?”

“Kiss it better,” Brett mumbles, ducking his head. Liam kisses the back of it obediently, then rolls out of bed, shivering as his feet hit the ground and the warm cocoon of blankets is suddenly gone.

“Mm, where’re you going?” Brett complains.

Liam smiles a little as he stops at the sink and holds up his bottle of Risperdal. “One dose in the morning, one at night.”

“Oh.” Brett’s face softens a little in sympathy. “Doesn’t it make you sleepy, though?”

“I take a really tiny dose in the morning,” Liam murmurs distractedly, measuring it out carefully. “So that it doesn’t. Used to be three doses, but that was fucking me up.”

“How?” Brett asks quietly.

“Oh. I was just sleepy. Like all the time. Made it impossible to do anything… like, sure, I wasn’t blowing up over stupid shit, but I was also passing out cold in most of my classes.”

“Sucks.”

“It’s fine now. I got into college.” He downs his dose with a wince, shakes his head, then rinses his mouth. “Never got used to the taste. I’m uh…” He’s just remembered he started telling Brett about the possible changeover last night. “I’m sort of looking forward to changing, if that’s what my psychiatrist decides.”

“Fluoxetine and lithium, right?” Brett asks.

Liam nods, sitting down at his desk and taking a pen out - meaning to write himself a note to follow that up with his psychiatrist, actually.

“So… what’s the fluoxetine for?” Brett asks softly. “Because it isn’t used to treat I.E.D. As far as I know, anyway.”

“Oh.” Liam rubs his neck. “Anxiety. But.” He shrugs, smiles self-deprecatingly. “My psychiatrist isn’t sure yet if I’m just an anxious person or whether the Risperdal is making me anxious. And I’ve been on it since I was…” He thinks about it for a moment. “Oh… fourteen?”

“Were you an anxious kid before that?” Brett asks.

“Yeah,” Liam says. “But I-”

He stops. He was going to say, “I had a deadbeat dad who used to belt the living shit out of me” and he’s not sure he’s really ready for Brett to know that. Is he supposed to disclose that he suffered abuse as a kid? He supposes so, but when? Should he have told Brett at the start, or should he wait a while? Will Brett decide that’s a dealbreaker and leave? Liam doesn’t really think so, but he wouldn’t blame him, and there’s always a little doubt in his mind about whether people will actually stick around.

“Yeah,” he finishes.

Brett tilts his head, looking concerned. “You worried about school?”

College is one of the only things Liam isn’t worried about; he studies, gets good grades, and enjoys what he’s doing. “No,” he says truthfully.

“Are you worried about us?” Brett asks quietly.

“No!” Liam drops his pen and goes to Brett, sits across his hips on the bed. “No, definitely not.”

“Good.” Brett smiles, relieved, rubs Liam’s lower back. “Because I really like having you around.”

Liam smiles as Brett pulls him closer, squeezing him around the waist tightly, and puts his cheek against Liam’s chest. Liam feels like Brett’s lit a tiny bonfire inside him that might never go out.

“Are you worried about money?” Brett asks. “Loans? Books? Because I can help you out if you are.”

“No. I’m okay on that front. Thanks though.” Liam shrugs, dipping his fingers beneath the neck of Brett’s shirt and beginning to massage there. “I’m just an anxious person I guess.”

“Mm, that’s okay,” Brett mumbles. “Go lower.”

Liam lowers his hands and starts massaging just under Brett’s shoulder blades. “Besides,” he says. “You can’t afford to help me out with my school stuff. You’re in school too you know.”

“Mm, don’t care.” Brett looks drowsy. “Right there. Yeah. Okay, harder. Ah, that’s so good.”

Liam feels himself tinting red. “If anyone walks past they’ll think we’re having sex.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Brett asks, opening his eyes to look at Liam - and there’s something joking and gently teasing about his gaze, but vulnerable, too, like he’s worried that Liam’s answer will be a solid yes. “Sex and food are basically the only valuable forms of currency in college, what with everyone being dirt poor and emotionally strung out.”

“When you talk about sex being currency you’re referring to prostitution,” Liam points out, “which I feel like none of the guys and most of the girls aren’t involved in anyway.”

“Mm, shut up,” Brett grins, then topples Liam back onto the mattress to rest between his legs. “This is good,” he says, lying down and getting comfortable - Liam wheezes a little at the added weight - before continuing, “there’s a spot near my spine, on the left hand side… lower…”

Liam skims his fingers lower, presses - and Brett groans above him. Liam’s dick kind of twitches, like it’s paying attention to the noise Brett’s making, and Liam says, “Here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, God. Ow. That kills. Jesus, you’re strong. I dig it.”

“You dig it?” Liam teases. “What are you, fucking Shaggy from Scooby Doo?”

“Does that make you Scooby?” Brett mumbles against his collarbone. “Actually, no. You’d be Scrappy.”

“Fuck you, Brett.”

Brett grins. Liam feels his mouth move, and then the tip of Brett’s tongue flickers out over the hard line of Liam’s collarbone, only retreating so Brett can press an open-mouthed kiss to the same spot.

Liam’s cock stiffens hopefully; he groans and drops his head back against the pillows. Brett grins.

“Well hi.”

“Shut uuup,” Liam moans, pulling a pillow over his face.

Brett laughs. “It’s normal, Liam. You want me to fix that up for you? I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“Oh yeah?” Liam asks weakly - he really, really wants to take Brett up on his offer. “By who?”

Brett doesn’t answer him; he just winks and then goes back to Liam’s collarbone and neck. He rolls a little, puts a hand on Liam’s thigh, and massages.

“So?” Brett asks. “No pressure or anything… but what do you say?”

Liam lowers the pillow from his face a little; Brett’s watching him. And it isn’t the heat behind Brett’s eyes or any pressure that makes Liam say yes; it’s how hard his heart is beating and how much he really, really wants Brett closer, to be closer to him, to feel closer to him.

“Please?” he asks.

The smile falls off Brett’s face. “Well…” He swallows. “I wasn’t expecting you to say please. At least not like that. I’m on it.” Just as he begins to smooth his hand back up Liam’s thigh, he pauses and says, “tell me to stop, anytime. I will.”

“I really don’t want you to,” Liam admits.

Brett hesitates again. “Hangups?” he asks. “Anywhere you don’t want me? Or anything in particular you really don’t like?”

“I don’t know what I like and don’t like,” Liam admits. “I’m inexperienced, remember?”

Brett smiles softly. “That’s okay. Guess we’ll work it out together.” With that, Brett’s moving. “C'mere.”

“Where?” Liam asks, confused.

“Here.” Brett pats the spot he’s made between his legs; Liam joins him, almost hesitantly, with his back against Brett’s chest. This feels oddly intimate, especially when he realises the only place for him to really put his head is on Brett’s shoulder - where Brett can see his face.

Brett’s right hand slides down his body, torturously slow, while his left zones in on Liam’s nipple and tweaks it, through his shirt, almost playfully. Liam jumps at the sensation; it’s fucking nice. A single bolt of pleasure, followed by a calmer, tingling sensation.

He wriggles a little. “Relax,” Brett chuckles. “I’m getting there.”

With that, his fingers dip beneath Liam’s boxers - nothing shy about it, no hesitation, no pulling away like before. Liam shudders gratefully when Brett’s fingers skim his lower belly almost curiously, then scratch over the jut of his hips.

“You’ve got a great body,” Brett says.

“Thank you,” Liam mumbles, feeling his face warm up.

“You liked having your nipples played with, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, feeling shy. “It was nice.”

“Okay.” Brett’s hand slips up his shirt and his fingers are right there, brushing over the hyper-sensitive buds of Liam’s nipples. He swears his breathing stops for a moment before restarting.

Brett’s hand, in his boxers, goes lower - Liam can feel every inch of skin covered like it’s on fire, like Brett’s leaving a discernible trail across him in neon paint. Then his fingers are brushing Liam’s dick, softly, and Liam lets out an embarrassingly breathy, shocked, “Oh,” as he does.

He feels Brett smile. “Mhm.” With that, he takes Liam in his grip - Liam’s already hard, not that it takes a lot with someone as beautiful as Brett this close to him. He tips his head back and kisses Brett’s throat clumsily.

He’s kind of proud when he hears Brett’s breathing stutter too. Two can play at this game… even if one is generally nervous and inexperienced.

Although, come to think of it, he’s not nervous about Brett, really, or even that Brett’s got a hand wrapped around his dick and slowly coaxing him into full hardness. He’s more nervous about embarrassing himself somehow - coming too fast, or taking too long, or, God, not being able to come at all, which-

“Liam,” Brett murmurs, kissing his temple. “Focus.”

“On what?”

“Whatever feels good.” Brett squeezes slowly on the way up, and Liam’s hips stutter a little. Brett’s hand is bigger than his own, has more calluses, and Brett’s torturously slow. Liam’s toes curl of their own accord.

“That’s pretty good,” he says weakly.

“Yeah? Okay.” Brett’s grip tightens, and he speeds up a little, adds a little twisting movement just as he reaches the head.

Liam’s too wrapped up in how good it feels to be embarrassed when he whimpers quietly. He feels Brett smile, then repeat the motion - getting rewarded with another reluctant noise from Liam.

“You’re vocal.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s hot. I like it.”

Liam breathes out. It’s so cold in his dorm that his breath expels from his lungs in a hazy white cloud, like smoke from a cigarette. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he rests them on Brett’s thighs, which are bracketing his waist.

Brett pauses at the head and strokes it lightly with his thumb. Liam digs his fingernails into the thick, solid muscles of Brett’s thighs and moans aloud.

“Okay, scratching,” Brett murmurs.

“Is that bad?” Liam pants.

“No. I like being scratched. Keep going.”

With permission, Liam’s happy to dig his fingernails into Brett’s thighs and keep scratching him. Brett groans, pushes up a little, speeding up.

“Brett,” Liam whispers, trying to keep his hips still. “I - I’m pretty-”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I-” Liam’s losing the fight; his hips are moving, and he’s thrusting up into Brett’s hand. “Please…”

Brett loosens his grip, which disappoints Liam until he speeds up, and then he feels his orgasm rushing towards him. “Fuck,” he groans. “Brett, I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead.” With that, Brett leans down and kisses Liam - their mouths are on awkward angles and Liam’s breathing like a racehorse, but Brett’s tongue mouths at the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth anyway, trying to breathe through his nose-

Brett squeezes, and Liam’s orgasm hits him hard - he comes, muffling a cry in Brett’s mouth, feeling Brett slow down and continue to squeeze him. His fingernails have dragged right from Brett’s knees to his upper thighs, leaving vicious red marks.

Brett pulls away from him slowly, and Liam lets his head drop onto Brett’s shoulder, panting hard. He feels like he just ran for miles, and his legs are shaking and exhausted, body trembling with the residual pleasure of his orgasm. It’s never been that intense before - and Hayden’s gotten him off before, but not like that, never like that. It’s never made him feel like this.

“Huh,” he whines, burying his face in Brett’s neck.

Brett smiles. “Good?”

“Holy shit, dude, ten out of ten.”

Brett laughs, seeming surprised but delighted. “That’s ten out of ten? I’m gonna blow your mind, Liam.”

Liam starts to sit up a little, but he’s still shaking. “Do you want me to-” And he’s nervous, really nervous, but it seems wrong not to offer, and-

“No,” Brett says quickly, even though Liam can feel that he’s hard, pressing into Liam’s lower back. “No, that was just for you, okay?”

Liam swallows and kisses Brett tenderly. “Thank you.”

Brett smiles. “No problem, baby.”

Liam blushes, as if on cue. Brett’s smile widens.

“You like that?”

“Like what?” Liam mumbles, feigning ignorance.

“Being called baby. You like it? I’ll stop if you don’t.”

“I like it,” Liam whispers, going back to hiding his face in Brett’s neck.

“I can’t believe I’ve got my hand around your dick and you’re shy about being called baby. It’s adorable. I love it.” Brett kisses Liam’s temple. “Anyway. Consider that another lesson. Introduction to gay sex one oh one: hand jobs.”

“What’s one oh two?” Liam asks.

“Blowjobs.”

“I think I want to fast-track my course, sir,” Liam says innocently.

Brett laughs.

~*~

Liam doesn’t usually consider himself the kiss-and-tell type, but he’s so elated about how well things are going with Brett that he has to tell someone.

Naturally, that person ends up being Hayden - because Mason’s busy stalking Corey, and Liam doesn’t want to throw him off his game. So he heads over to Hayden’s dorm room after Brett’s left and he’s showered, intent on telling her… well, at least some of what happened.

_Which part am I happier about?_ He wonders as he climbs the stairs to the girls’ dorm building. _That Brett opened up and let me in, or that he stayed the night, or that he got me off?_

It’s a pretty difficult question, but Liam settles for the first option - which he’s happy to tell Hayden and absolutely will not tell Mason for fear of being teased mercilessly.

He knocks on Hayden’s door, gratified to see it swinging open immediately. She’s wearing sweats and furry slippers with bunny faces on them and one of Liam’s crewneck sweatshirts.

“Hi,” she says, smiling. “What’s up?”

“Can I, you know-”

“Yeah, of course.” She steps back to let him in. He comes in and sits down on her desk chair, smiling, as she sits back at her bed - she’s painting her nails. “What’s…”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You look… like…”

Liam grins. “Brett stayed the night last night.”

Her jaw drops. “Did you come here to tell me you got laid?”

“Okay, I didn’t really. But this morning, he uh - yeah.”

“Oh my God.” She looks absolutely gleeful. “Was it good?”

“I gave him ten out of ten.”

“Already? He’s going to have to outperform himself now.” She smiles at him. “He stayed the night? I’m really happy for you, Liam. That’s great.”

He blushes a little at how genuinely thrilled she sounds for him. “Thanks. I uh - I also - well, advice? Please?”

“You have to tell me what’s up first,” she teases.

“Well… he uh, you know how he came to the record store? I told you not to be too harsh on him. He’s going through a lot. He told me about it last night, and, I just…” Liam shakes his head. “We were talking about my I.E.D and my meds and stuff, and he asked if I’d always been anxious. I almost told him about my dad.”

Hayden’s face softens. “But you didn’t?”

“I just…” Liam shrugs. “I feel like he should know, you know? That I have issues like that. But I don’t… I’m really scared he’ll think it’s too much and just, I dunno. Fuck off.”

“You were going really well with being communicative until you did that thing boys do where they get all weirded out by feeling emotion and stopped,” she says gently. “Keep going. It’s just me.”

“I don’t want him to leave because of whatever issues I have,” Liam says. “But I also… I know I have to tell him at some point if he’s going to be around for a while. He deserves to know. I just don’t know how and I’m scared.”

“And you’ve never told anyone before,” Hayden says quietly.

“Yeah.” He hasn’t. Mason and Hayden only know because they’ve known Liam his whole life; they watched it happen from afar and when he was eventually hospitalised from it going too far, they went to see him. He’s never actually told someone about his dad.

“Think about it later,” Hayden says. “You’re in a really good mood and you’re - look, I’m not a therapist. Or your therapist. But as your best friend… you’re making a lot of progress, and you seem a lot happier, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think it’s because of him. So why don’t you take a day to enjoy it?”

Liam smiles. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Hayden smiles back. “Sometimes I have them.”

They sit in contented silence for a while. Liam’s still dazed from the last twenty four hours of emotion - the fear and sadness that had permeated his dorm room last night, followed by the emotional high this morning, has left him feeling almost exhausted.

“So,” Hayden says. “Is Brett left handed or right handed?”

~*~

The first thing Liam does, when he gets off work, is go across the road to the sushi place, get as many different kinds of sushi rolls as they have - which isn’t actually that many, given that it’s barely more than a storefront with two stools - and then hop on the bus.

Brett’s workplace is about a half hour’s bus ride away. Liam listens to music and drums absently on his thigh with his left hand - he’s got his backpack, stuffed with clothes and books and his laptop, over one shoulder, and his guitar over the other. He’s never played guitar around Brett before - he hasn’t been brave enough - but music always helps when he’s hurting and he thinks maybe it’ll help Brett too.

He steps off the bus just outside Brett’s cafe and stops, briefly, to cough. It’s been a few days, but the cough is hanging around - the doctor said that would happen, though. It’s not painful anymore, but it’s pretty annoying. It’s really hard to make out with someone when you think you’re about to burst into a fit of spluttering.

Brett’s standing outside when he gets there, attempting to pull down one of the outdoor umbrellas. Liam grins to himself before sneaking closer, slowly - his height is an advantage here - and slipping his hands over Brett’s eyes.

Brett jumps, but Liam feels his face move in a smile. “Let me guess… Pete?”

Liam chuckles as he lets Brett go. “I brought you sushi.”

Brett looks at him like Liam’s just announced he’s won the lottery and is taking Brett on a world-round trip. “Really?”

“Yeah. Figured you might be hungry.”

“Absolutely,” Brett says cheerfully. “I’ve still got two hours left here.”

“That’s okay. Brought my laptop. I’ll study.”

“And your guitar,” Brett says with a smile. “Isn’t it heavy?”

Liam shrugs; he’s used to carrying it around by now. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “And I haven’t played in ages so I thought I’d get some in tonight.”

“Do I get to listen?” Brett sounds almost hopeful about that; Liam’s not sure what’s so exciting about listening to him play, but he’s glad Brett seems enthusiastic about hearing it.

“Yeah. If you want to.”

Brett nods, smiles. “Sit down somewhere. Want anything?”

“French toast?” Liam asks hopefully. Brett’s cafe has an all-day breakfast menu and Liam’s pretty obsessed with French toast.

“Sure. I’ll bring it out.”

He chooses a table in the corner and sits down with his laptop to study. He’s staying at Brett’s again - he’s been back at his dorm for four nights, and Brett’s decided that’s too long and that he’d like Liam back there. Something about Bruce Lee missing him.

He thinks it might have something to do with Brett too, but he’ll keep that to himself.

He feels Brett’s fingertips graze his neck gently. “Who gave you these?” he asks, faux-innocent.

“Some asshole who thought it’d be funny to leave them in a really visible spot,” Liam grins.

“Hmm.” Brett nods wisely. “Well, he did a good job.”

“I’m sure he’s very proud of himself,” Liam mutters, and Brett grins widely as he puts Liam’s toast down.

“Hey, can I try something on you?”

“I’m kind of scared, so be gentle, but yeah,” Liam replies bemusedly.

Brett grins as he heads over to the coffee machine. Liam twists in his seat to watch him curiously; he’s making something, not that Liam would have any idea what.

When Brett’s done, he approaches Liam’s table again with a coffee. “New recipe,” he says proudly. “Which means it’s free on account of my boss being terrified you’ll somehow sue him.”

“I’m not gonna sue him-”

Brett covers his mouth. “Shh. If you say that too loudly you’ll have to pay for it.”

Liam smiles underneath Brett’s hand, and he takes it away. “Let me know what you think, anyway,” he says cheerfully.

“I will.” Liam watches him walk away. Brett’s seemed alright the last few days - Liam hasn’t seen him a lot, or often, because their work and school schedules have been conflicting - but he’s been okay. He hasn’t disappeared again, at any rate, but he also hasn’t talked about his mom.

Liam fidgets just thinking about it. Is he meant to bring it up? He doesn’t know the protocol here at all. Or does he just wait until Brett does? If Brett’s managed to forget and deal with it, Liam doesn’t wanna bring it up, but if he’s secretly struggling, he doesn’t want Brett to be alone, and-

“You’re overthinking, buddy,” Brett’s voice says. “Whatever it is… it looks like it hurts. Let it go.”

“I can’t let things go,” Liam says. “I’m like Velcro. Everything sticks to me and I lose my usefulness after about six months.”

Brett laughs, smiling widely; Liam thinks the self-deprecation is worth it if that’s the reaction he’ll get. “We’ll see about that,” he says, looking down at Liam fondly. “What’re you studying today?”

“Oh, it’s pretty cool, actually - we’re doing narcotics and the ways they’re used in murders and stuff like that, and you know, what laws have been changed to stop people gaining access to them.”

“So no blood splatters today?”

“No, we’ve already finished that.”

“I’m kind of glad,” Brett admits. Liam smiles. “If you need help with narcotics, let me know.”

“Do you know much about Rohypnol?”

“Only that it’s nearly impossible to get a hold of.”

“Ah, okay. Thanks anyway.”

Brett goes back to work; Liam watches him move around the cafe curiously, a little envious of the way Brett interacts so easily and openly with the other customers, like he’s been friends with them for years. Usually, Liam doesn’t mind being the way he is - but he does occasionally wish he was a little more socially inclined.

He sits and studies for a little bit, headphones on, watching other customers move around the cafe. Most of the little old ladies seem pretty taken with Brett - Liam’s fairly sure he’s flirting with them, at least unintentionally.

Eventually, two hours is up; Liam watches as Brett takes his apron off, washes his hands, and waves goodbye to his boss before coming to Liam. Liam straightens up and smiles.

“Ready to go?” Brett asks.

“Yup.” Liam packs his stuff up. “You know, if you ever wanted to quit your job, there’s at least three little old ladies here who would marry you in a heartbeat. Bet they’re loaded.”

“Liam,” Brett says, horrified.

“What? You’re bi. You could make it work.”

Brett snorts. “Right. You couldn’t for millions?”

“… Okay, point taken.”

“Besides,” Brett says, kissing Liam’s cheek sweetly as they stop next to his car. “I’d have to give you up for that.”

Liam feels himself blush furiously. They’ve been easing, slowly, into more open displays of affection, but never around a lot of people, and never prolonged contact - Liam still feels sort of weird and awkward about it, but Brett seems to know that. It’s not that he’s ashamed, and it’s not even that he’s really scared. He’s starting to think that maybe he’s just not very into PDA.

The drive to Brett’s place is short; Brett tells him stories, animatedly, as he drives, and Liam watches him fondly, perfectly content to listen to Brett talk. Brett likes telling stories; he especially likes to talk with his hands.

The moment Brett unlocks the front door, Bruce Lee is meowing at them, rubbing against their legs, and begging to be picked up. Liam dumps his stuff straight away and hoists the cat into his arms, smiling as Bruce Lee rubs against his face and purrs like an engine.

“I told you he missed you,” Brett says with a smile.

“I missed him too,” Liam coos, kissing Bruce Lee’s nose. “Sweet kitty.”

“What’s that song from the Big Bang Theory?” Brett wonders aloud.

“Soft kitty, warm kitty…” Liam prompts.

Brett sits down at one of the barstools and grins. “You finish it.”

Liam - who doesn’t sing, as a general rule - is so whipped by Brett and how happy he looks that he continues without having to really think about. “Little ball of fur,” he says, holding Bruce’s paw as he pretends to waltz. “Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr.”

“That was great,” Brett says, clapping delightedly. “How about another?”

“Like?”

“Oh… Wonderwall?”

“Fuck off, Brett.”

“It’s a good song!”

“I’ll break my guitar over your head before I sing fucking Wonderwall. Every clichéd person and their equally clichéd probably hipster dog sings fucking Wonderwall.”

“Aww, Liam. Okay. How about… Time Of Your Life? Greenday?”

“God, you’re the most horribly clichéd person ever. I hate you.”

“That is absolutely untrue,” Brett says, standing up and coming over to Liam. He’s smiling fondly. “You don’t hate me.”

Liam sighs. “I suppose not.”

“By the way,” Brett says, kissing Liam’s nose. “How exactly does one spot a hipster dog?”

“… I changed my mind, I do hate you.”


	9. Nine - Cambiare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a ridiculously long time I am so sorry lol  
> It's a little longer than usual though, which hopefully makes up for it! Enjoy ^_^

**Chapter Nine - Cambiare**

Brett and Pete live above a family of South Korean immigrants and below a little old lady with three cats.

Liam likes it at Brett’s apartment; it’s brightly-lit, even though it’s small, and he enjoys the relative quiet compared to the dorms - that it seems homely, and not just like temporary accommodation.

“Our landlord is about ninety,” Pete says dryly. “She didn’t want a college student here, but he flirted with her until she fell in love with him.”

Liam shakes his head, laughing. “You’re disgusting,” he says to Brett.

“But I have a place to live,” he points out.

“Try this.” Pete holds out a spoon to Liam, and Liam blows on it a little, trying to cool it down.

“Why me?” he asks.

“Because Brett will tell me it’s shit just to fuck with my head. Good?”

Liam licks his lips. “Mm. More salt?”

“It’s always good to hear more,” Pete says as he adds more salt to the sauce he’s cooking. “If you hear "too salty” it’s sort of like… well, what am I supposed to do with it now? I can’t take the salt out or anything.“

"He’s not going to be hungry by the time it’s actually ready to eat,” Brett says.

“He’s a teenager. He’s always hungry. Right, Liam?”

“Right,” Liam confirms, testing another bite. “That’s good.” He tilts his head and looks at Pete. “How’s your digestive health, by the way?”

Pete glares at him while Brett snickers. “You know, Brett,” Pete says huffily, “I’m beginning to rethink this. I don’t like this - this keeping score thing. I don’t like not winning these banter sessions. He’s too good at it.”

“Yeah, but nobody else will patiently sit and listen to you talk about Ben Affleck as Batman for an hour, either,” Brett points out. “So you gotta keep him.”

“Hang on, I thought he belonged to you?” Pete demands.

“I don’t belong to either of you,” Liam says with a grin. “And Batfleck was great.”

“Oh, he was not,” Pete huffs, irritated. “He’s barely older than me.”

“You could be brothers,” Liam says, smiling wider.

“You could be his sugar baby,” Pete says dryly.

Liam shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Brett says weakly. “I buy you food and chocolate.”

“I’d rather be Henry Cavill’s sugar baby anyway,” Liam seems dismissively. “He seems nice.”

“Dude, it doesn’t matter if they’re nice as long as they give you money, that’s the whole point,” Pete says. “Besides, Ben Affleck probably has more money.”

“Wanna bet?” Liam challenges. “Brett-”

“Already Googling it,” Brett says absently. “The sooner I find out, the sooner you’ll let it go and remember I exist. Okay, Henry Cavill is worth eight million… fuck, Affleck’s worth seventy five million. You know what, Liam, you wanna be his sugar baby - go for it. Just let me in on a cut of the money.”

Liam laughs.

“But,” Pete says, “Affleck’s got three kids and an ex-wife. And Cavill’s a lot younger, so he’ll be hot for longer.”

“But seventy five million,” Brett murmurs.

“Cavill’s got time to earn more money,” Liam points out. He accepts the next spoonful of food Pete gives him. “Mm, that’s really good.”

“Stop feeding my boyfriend,” Brett whines, wrapping his arms around Liam’s waist and putting his head on Liam’s shoulder. “He already wants to leave me for Batfleck or Henry Cavill. If you feed him too much his loyalties will shift and he’ll decide you’re a better option.”

“He’ll be shit out of luck, then. I don’t swing that way.”

“You hear that, Liam? I’m your only eligible, realistic option.”

Liam turns to face him. “I never said I’d leave you for either of them,” he says. “I would just use them for their money. And share it with you.”

“What a little extortionist you have on your hands,” Pete quips.

“Better be careful I don’t steal your pension money,” Liam says, grinning widely.

Pete’s mouth drops open, and Brett laughs. “Liam won that round,” he chuckles, kissing Liam’s cheek.

“I let him,” Pete says lamely. “Can’t damage his poor young psyche too much.”

Liam tilts his head and smiles innocently. Pete scowls at him. “Anyway,” he continues pointedly, “I only let him win because I have to go to work-”

“Ohh, sure, that’s why,” Brett laughs.

Pete huffs as he starts putting food into a container and getting his things. “Be good,” he says, except this is actually aimed at Brett, not Liam. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Well, what’s the point of having a boyfriend if I make him sit a foot away from me on the couch?” Brett asks, grinning slyly.

Pete points a fork at him as he tucks his shirt in and adjusts his glasses. “If you’re doing to do anything - _anything!”_ he emphasises, ignoring Liam turning red and opening his mouth to defend himself, “you will _not_ be doing it on our couch. Which we _share_. Which people _other than you_ sit on.”

“God, you’re such a buzzkill,” Brett sighs dramatically. “Okay, fine… guess we’re gonna have to be vanilla and use the bedroom-”

“Not _the_ bedroom,” Pete says, narrowing his eyes. “ _Your_ bedroom.”

Brett grins.

“The counter is also off-limits. We eat here.”

“Dude, I’m not gonna do anything to him on the counter.”

“You might not be doing much with him at all. If he keeps blushing like that he’s going to get a nosebleed,” Pete says, smiling and patting Liam’s shoulder sympathetically. “Make him behave, Liam.”

“I don’t think anyone can make him behave,” Liam mumbles shyly, and they both laugh.

“Alright. See you later.”

“What time are you home?”

“Not till early morning again,” Pete sighs. He works at the twenty-four hour pharmacy a half hour’s drive away, and he works strange shifts, which often leaves Brett - and now Liam - to their own devices.

“Alright. I’ll leave a beer out.”

“That’s sweet, honey,” Pete says. “Bye.”

“Bye,” they both say. Liam watches Pete leave, smug about having won their verbal sparring match.

Brett’s hand tugs his waist a little; Liam turns and barely has time to open his mouth before Brett’s leaning in and kissing him deeply.

“Mmf,” Liam mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning into it. Brett kisses like he’s pouring his whole heart and soul into it and expecting to lay claim to Liam’s, and Liam loves it - there’s no half-measures or hesitance about it.

“What was that for?” Liam breathes when they separate.

Brett leans his hands on the counter. Liam’s sitting on one of the barstools, and the action forces Brett into his space and effectively cages Liam in as Brett dips his head and touches Liam’s nose with his own, grinning cheekily.

“I just felt like it. And we’re alone.”

Liam shivers at the connotation in Brett’s voice. “Mhm.”

“And I think…” Brett tugs Liam’s waist with both hands and smiles when Liam follows him eagerly out of the barstool. “I think we should put this aloneness to good use.”

“Yeah,” Liam mumbles, stumbling after Brett as he backs away and craning his neck up. “Yeah, absolutely.”

They tumble onto the couch - Liam wonders very, very fleetingly if they’re about to break all of Pete’s rules - with Liam on top of Brett. He settles in properly - he’s really unused to sitting like this, astride something or someone, given that he hasn’t been horse riding in years and his hips aren’t used to it. But Brett likes it when he’s up here, and that makes any discomfort worth it.

Brett pulls him down by the back of his neck softly and kisses him, licking his way into Liam’s mouth and running a hand up under his shirt. Liam twitches eagerly; he’s sort of hoping Brett will go for his nipples, but for now, Brett seems content to stroke his side in long, sweeping motions.

Liam leans down a little more to make Brett’s job easier. Brett’s fingers are sifting through the short, soft hairs at the back of his neck, running up to the crown of his skull, and then back down again. There are shivers rippling down Liam’s spine with the sensation.

Brett’s arm moves, wraps around his waist, and Liam knows instinctively he’s about to be flipped over. He’d complain, but he actually really likes it - he likes Brett manhandling him like that, being a little less gentle, likes that Brett is strong enough to do it. He never expected that of himself, what with his dad being the way he was, but…

Brett’s in between Liam’s legs now, up on his elbows, kissing his chin and throat softly. Liam goes for his t-shirt - what’s the point of having a really, ridiculously hot boyfriend if he can’t see his abs at least fifty percent of the time? - and is promptly stopped by Brett’s hand.

With one swift, but gentle motion, Brett’s pinning his wrist back against the couch cushions next to Liam’s head, smiling tentatively. The smooth, fragile skin that only just serves as a barrier between his veins and the outside world is exposed, a web of blue underneath the paleness of his skin.

Liam should feel nervous. He doesn’t. He kind of likes it, even - he lets Brett pin him, wriggles a little to see if Brett will loosen his hold at Liam’s movement. He does; when Liam half-heartedly tries to lift his wrist, Brett lessens the pressure - not taking his hand away, but also making it entirely possible for Liam to push him off.

Liam settles back into it. Brett might be the one lightly pinning him, but Liam’s calling the shots. That’s cool with him; as long as he’s not powerless, he’s fine.

“Yeah?” Brett asks uncertainly.

“Mhm,” Liam confirms vaguely, craning his neck up. “C'mon.”

Brett’s other hand lands on his crooked knee, then starts sliding downwards - up the side of his thigh, along the denim of his jeans, until he reaches Liam’s hip. Then his fingers edge under Liam’s shirt and touch his skin.

Liam smiles into their kiss, rolling a little to improve Brett’s access to his shirt. Brett’s hand slides from his wrist up to his hand, and Liam’s hand is pressed back into the couch cushions as Brett leans his weight down and laces their fingers together.

“Is this okay?” Brett murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if anything isn’t.”

“I will.”

Brett’s hand creeps back down to Liam’s waist, slowly, before tugging a little on the waistband of his jeans. They’re kind of new, and they’re a little more snug than Liam likes them, but Brett smiles softly.

“I like these. They look good on you.”

Liam’s not sure what to say to that. Especially when Brett’s hand makes quick work of his belt buckle, and he unclasps the button on Liam’s jeans slowly, with one hand. Liam wonders how much practice he needed to be able to master that.

“Pete said not to fuck up the couch,” Liam breathes.

“I’m just playing,” Brett says innocently, pulling Liam’s zipper down slowly. “You don’t like me playing?”

“I like you playing fine,” Liam whispers breathlessly. “I really like you playing.” Brett’s inching his jeans a little lower with every word; they’re barely clinging to his hips. “I also like Pete not hating me, and if he finds out-”

“Pete’s not gonna find out,” Brett whispers, grinning slyly. “You know why? ‘Cause we aren’t gonna leave a mess.” He sits up a little. “Now, about these-”

The doorknob turns, and Liam barely has time to pull his jeans back up before Pete’s entering the apartment. “Forgot my phone,” he says, not looking up. “Jesus, I’ve got a memory like a-”

He stops short when he sees them on the couch, looks at Liam - who goes so red he thinks he might melt - and then at Brett, his expression flat.

“Again with the couch. Again with the teenager, who’s in an even more debauched state than last time. What is it with you and the couch? Is it a territory thing? Is that it? Jesus Christ, Brett, I was gone less than ten minutes-”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Brett whines. “We were just messing around!”

“Yeah, messing being the operative word here,” Pete says dryly. “You might wanna get Liam some ice, he looks like he’s going to pass out. By the way, Liam, I’m not genuinely angry, it’s just that half the time I come back here Brett’s got at least his shirt off.”

“No problem,” Liam whispers.

Pete points at Brett. “No messing up the couch. Ice for Liam before he faints. Drink something other than beer tonight. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Brett calls.

The door shuts. Liam peeks out from underneath his hands, finding Brett looking down at him uncertainly.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think-”

Liam gives a weak laugh. “Don’t be sorry,” he mumbles, still embarrassed. “Just… that killed my boner and I’d really like that ice now.”

Brett laughs. “Least you’ve got a sense of humour about it, right? If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t actually going to ravish you on the couch. I would have at least moved you to the coffee table.”

Liam looks to the coffee table as he sits up and tries to straighten himself out. It looks pretty rickety, and he knows instinctively it’s from Ikea. “Doesn’t look safe,” he says reluctantly.

“I love how you didn’t notice that was a joke _and_ took into account the structural integrity of my coffee table,” Brett says fondly. “Dude, I have a bed, I’m not gonna waste time with our piece of shit Lack coffee table.”

“Lack? That’s like the cheapest thing they have at Ikea, Brett,” Liam says. “Like, Ikea’s already pretty cheap, and then there’s the Lack series.”

“How the fuck - never mind. Do Pete and I look like we even particularly use it for anything other than putting our feet on?”

Liam laughs, watching as Brett moves around the kitchen, his t-shirt still kind of ruffled from where they’ve been rolling around. “You want a Coke?” he asks.

Liam sits up straighter. “A Coke?” he asks.

“Yeah. Like a can?”

“Sure,” Liam replies, feeling a little confused. “Why’ve you got cans of Coke? I thought you hated that stuff.”

Brett shrugs. “I figured if you were around a lot and Pete and I were drinking beer, it wouldn’t be fair for you to not have anything,” he says, putting the can on the coffee table and slumping next to Liam with his own beer. “And I remember you said you can’t drink with your meds and wouldn’t anyway.”

Liam smiles. “Thanks. That’s really nice.” He cracks the tab on the can open. “Do… you and Pete drink often?”

“Well, I drink less now,” Brett admits. “Since I met you I mean. Pete’s just a social drinker. He’ll have one if other people are.”

Liam nods, feeling a little nervous. “Do you, um,” he starts quietly. “Do you drink because… because of your mom, or…?”

Brett watches him for a moment; Liam’s barely able to meet his eyes. He doesn’t like booze, what it does to people, the way it makes them wildly unpredictable, the way the smell reminds him of his dad on Tuesday nights after long shifts at work and frayed nerves.

“It’s not why I started drinking,” Brett says eventually. “I started drinking because my ex used to drink a lot. It was fun to get drunk with him. After my mom was diagnosed and he broke up with me it was definitely a really unhealthy coping mechanism. I’m trying not to do it as much now.”

“Oh,” Liam murmurs. “Okay.”

Brett frowns. “Do you… have a problem with me drinking?”

“No,” Liam says quickly. “Um, no, I-”

 _This would be a perfect opportunity to tell him just how badly your dad fucked you up_ , he thinks to himself, but he can’t get the words to come out. He looks down at his hands, wrapped around the can of Coke - they’re kind of shaking.

“Liam,” Brett says, “I won’t drink beer around you if it makes you uncomfortable, I-”

“That’s not…” Liam trails off. Brett waits, but Liam can’t quite get the words to come out.

Brett gives him a small, but kind smile. “Tell me whenever you’re ready,” he says. “I can wait.”

“Thanks,” Liam says softly.

There’s a pause. Brett sips his beer, glances down at Liam’s hands, and looks away politely. He’s not going to bring attention to them trembling, which Liam appreciates immensely.

“You wanna show me your guitar?” Brett asks suddenly.

“Sure.” Liam jumps at the chance to move past this conversation. “It’s uh, it’s in your bedroom.”

“Okay. Lead the way.”

Liam smiles a little as he stands up. Brett treats Liam like Liam’s always been part of his life - shares his food and clothes and whatever else he might have with Liam, makes sure he’s warm enough and had enough to eat - and checks to make sure he’s taken his antibiotics, too, which is good, because Liam’s pretty forgetful with them.

“So uh,” Brett says as Liam unclips his guitar case. “You wanna… tell me the specifics?”

“It’s acoustic electric,” Liam says. “It - you don’t know what that is, do you?”

Brett smiles sheepishly. “Guilty.”

Liam laughs as he sits on the bed. “It means I can play like… Death Cab For Cutie or whatever, but also Pearl Jam. The sounds are different. So…” He strums lightly at it. “That’s the acoustic sound, right? And this - well this is gonna sound kinda jacked, because I don’t have an amp, but…”

He fidgets with the tone controls for a moment, then strums. “See? It has uh - it’s called a pre-amplifier, which basically um, it makes the sound a little louder before it travels into a full amplifier. So I can um, I can play electric, but not all that well, and not loudly.”

Brett’s smiling. “You know your stuff, huh?”

Liam ducks his head, blushing, attempting to tune it properly. “Sure, when I’m not stammering,” he murmurs, and Brett laughs.

“Yours looks different,” he says. “From the ones in the shop.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s sort of upside down because I’m left-handed. Like… you would hold it like this.” Liam switches it around. “But then all the strings are upside down and it would sound weird.”

“It’s beautiful,” Brett murmurs.

Liam smiles. “Thanks.” He watches Brett’s fingertips skim the edge. “Custom-made 17th-series Martin guitar. Left handed, acoustic electric, green wood stain.” He looks at it lovingly; it’s his baby, and anyone who knows him well knows that. The wood is a black and green finish, glossed over, and it makes a deep, resonating sound with just a tap of his fingers.

“You know much about guitars?”

“It’s how I got the job at the music store,” Liam explains. “The owner wanted me so I could advise on them.”

“This must’ve cost some money,” Brett notes. “It’s fucking beautiful.”

“My parents cut me a deal,” Liam says. “They told me to save up half of the money, and that they’d match whatever I had by graduation.” Brett’s not wrong about the price; it was almost three grand, and he worked his ass off all summer and as much as he could after school, for a little more than a year, just to make the money.

Brett smiles. “Are you any good?”

“I’m pretty good,” Liam confirms. “But I don’t sing.”

Brett doesn’t ask why. Instead, he says, “Can I take some photos of you with it?”

“Yeah,” Liam says - he’s surprised when Brett goes to get his camera out, a huge, heavy-looking thing. “Um, I’m not a very good model.”

“You’ve modelled for photos before?”

“… No?”

Brett smiles. “Then how would you know if you are or not? All you have to do is sit and look pretty.” He looks up from the lens. “Heads up, you’re already doing it.”

Liam blushes, probably from head to foot, and Brett’s smile widens. “I like making you do that,” he comments.

“You can’t take photos of me when I’m this red,” Liam mumbles, strumming lightly on the guitar strings. “It’s not fair.”

“This is a black and white shoot,” Brett promises. “Are you gonna play?”

“Do you want me to?”

Brett looks up from the camera and smiles softly. “I’d like to hear you play. You said you’d been playing for ten years, right? You must be pretty good.”

Liam blushes a little. “I’m alright I guess.”

“Okay, well, I, with my unskilled ears and lack of knowledge concerning any musical instrument, will be the judge of that,” Brett says seriously, and Liam laughs.

“What do you want me to play?”

“What do you know?”

“Try me,” Liam says with a smile. “I know a lot.”

“Hmm.” Brett looks at him thoughtfully, his fingers still fidgeting with the camera. “How about… Do you know how to play Waking Up? By Pvris?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, smiling. “I know that one. Gimme a second.” He messes with the tuning a little bit more, aware that Brett’s already start taking photos by the fluttering sound of the camera shutters.

He almost has to gather his courage to be able to play the guitar in front of Brett - which is silly, because Brett is the least likely person to judge him for anything he might do. Still, it makes him a little nervous.

He’s relieved when the music comes to him easily - when the strings hardly scrape beneath his fingers and he doesn’t have to pause to remember different notes and chords, when it sounds like he’s been doing it since he was born.

The camera shutter stops going off. He glances up, sees that Brett is watching him, his mouth slightly open. He can’t play knowing Brett’s looking at him like that - like Liam’s the one who discovered music in the first place, like Brett’s never heard anything like it before - so he looks away, swallowing.

Brett watches him play the entire song, and Liam doesn’t mess it up once. He’s known it for a while - it was the first song of theirs he heard, and the first one he learned - so he’s feeling confident that he didn’t go off-beat or anything.

Once the final, melancholy note has settled in the air and faded into silence, he looks up. Brett’s sitting in front of him, on the floor, cross-legged like a little kid.

“Thought you were taking my picture?” Liam asks quietly.

“I was.” Brett blinks. “Fuck, Liam, you’re really, really good.”

Liam tints red. “Thank you.”

“Will you play me something else?” Brett asks hopefully. “I promise to take your picture this time.”

Liam smiles. “What do you want to hear?”

~*~

He plays the guitar for Brett for almost an hour - Brett doesn’t look like he’s bored, or like he doesn’t like the music. He takes photos, but not many; he seems focussed on Liam’s playing.

They both have work that night; Brett drops Liam off at the mall, kisses him softly before he gets out of the car, and Liam really, really wishes he didn’t have to go deal with bratty teenagers and middle-aged “cool” moms for the rest of the day. He just kind of wants to glue himself to Brett’s side and spend all his time with him.

It’s twenty minutes before his shift starts; he buys Hayden a coffee and one of those terrible Starbucks sandwiches, because he knows she’s working and probably hungry.

His thoughts drift as he stands in line. He hasn’t told Brett about his dad. He hasn’t told anyone about wanting to tell Brett about his dad. And they’re getting to the point where they’re sort of starting to talk seriousness; Liam doesn’t think Brett would date him without getting serious, because he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. But Liam…

He chews his lip. Brett deserves to know about his hang-ups if they’re going to be in a relationship and he’s going to be stuck with Liam’s weird tics and neuroses and general fear of emotional intimacy.

“Liam?” the barista calls.

He collects his stuff and heads across to work; Hayden’s behind the counter, chewing on the end of a pen and looking bored.

“You just missed Noah,” she says.

Liam feels himself go red. “Fuck, seriously?” he mumbles, putting her stuff down. “I mean… it’s getting ridiculous.”

“I know. I told him to quit showing up here, but he says he’s gonna talk you round.”

Liam scrunches his nose up. “Has he seen Brett? Nobody’s talking me around from that.”

Hayden bursts into a fit of giggles. “Not that anyone can blame you,” she teases. “Aw, you’re blushing.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling as he heads off to the shelves to do inventory for the day.

They work in relative silence for a while; Hayden serves customers, Liam climbs up and down his rickety, definitely not safe for work stepladder, and the day wears on.

“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” Hayden asks, sometime around two. “Mine’s flat.”

“Sure. I have my charger in my bag if you wanna use it.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she sighs, plugging her phone in behind the counter and fishing Liam’s out of his pocket - he’s up on the stepladder, putting new stock away.

“Who’re you texting, any-”

“Jesus, Liam,” Hayden says, raising her eyebrows.

“What?” he asks blankly.

She looks up at him. “Your phone background? Seriously?”

“I - huh?” Liam climbs down and looks at his phone.

The picture is of Brett, wearing nothing more than a towel and taking a selfie, apparently with Liam’s phone, in his bathroom. “That fucker,” he grumbles. “I knew he did something with my phone.”

“You’re so lucky,” Hayden murmurs. “Jesus, Liam, he’s ripped!”

“I know,” Liam grins.

“He stole your phone, took an almost-naked selfie of himself, and set it to your lockscreen,” she giggles. “Is there a more obvious way to say "pay me more attention!” do you think?“

Liam tilts his head. "If there is, I’m sure he’ll find it,” he replies, and Hayden laughs louder, then hands him back his phone. Liam puts it in his pocket.

“You… aren’t going to change it?”

Liam grins impishly. “Be sort of a shame to waste all his effort, right?”

“You’re so whipped,” she coos, kissing his temple. “Hey, will you come to the mall with me when we close? I’ve got an opening night event for one of our productions, I need a dress.”

“… Shopping?” Liam asks reluctantly.

“I’ll sweeten the deal and play Until Dawn with you tonight. Unless you’re with Brett?”

“I’m not. He has work.” Liam gnaws his lip; he’s ahead with his studying and Mason’s going to be out, and he does like playing Until Dawn… horror games are so much more fun with another person being utterly terrified next to him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “But not for long, right?”

She grins evilly. “Right.”

~*~

Hayden was lying, which Liam knew right from the moment he agreed, but he’s still pissed.

Hayden’s dragged him through no less than seven stores looking for a dress - and fucking matching shoes, Christ - and Liam’s been mistaken for her boyfriend at least six of those seven times.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” the most recent sales assistant beams to Hayden. “Most of them just ditch their girlfriends and go to GameStop.”

Liam waits for her to leave before muttering, “I’m not a dog.”

Hayden ruffles his hair and smiles as she steps into the fitting room. “But she’s right. You’re nicer than all the other guys.”

“Shucks, Hayds,” Liam says, smiling. He can hear her getting changed. “I mean, as long as you think so…”

“How about this one?” Hayden pulls the curtain back, wearing a floor-length purple dress and stiletto heels that kind of frighten Liam.

“It looks really nice,” he says honestly.

She puts a hand on her hip, smiling. “Liam, you’ve said that about every dress.”

“Every dress looks nice! You look good in all of them,” he replies, totally sincerely. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re gonna be beautiful.”

She smiles at him, and this one looks a little less exasperated and a little more bashful. “Liam… while you being a total sweetheart is usually really good, it’s not helping me choose a dress right now.”

“I’m not a sweetheart,” Liam whines. “I’m hungry.”

“I promise I’ll feed you if you tell me which one you like the most.”

“… Pick three and I’ll choose one,” Liam bargains.

Hayden laughs. “Okay.”

In the end, she chooses a white mini dress, a black dress that looks kind of like a bag - which helps Liam, really, because he knows he won’t choose that one - and the purple one. He stares at all three of them for more than a minute, trying to decide.

“The… purple one?” he asks hesitantly. He feels like this is definitely something he can get woefully wrong.

“Why the purple one?” Hayden asks, putting the black and white ones back on the hanger inside the change room.

“It… uh…” Jesus, he’s averaging a 3.8 GPA and he can’t even say why the purple dress sticks out to him more than the others. Is it because it was the last one she tried on? Is it because it’s purple and really, really hard to miss?

“Yeah?” Hayden teases.

“I like that it goes to the floor,” Liam says helplessly. “It looks like, I dunno, really… sophisticated? And… nobody else will be wearing purple, right? So… if-”

“Okay, okay,” she laughs. “I’m done torturing you. Let’s go.” She picks the dress up and returns the others to the rack just inside the change room. “By the way, it’s called a maxi dress.”

“I don’t care what it’s called, I’m never gonna fucking wear one.”

Hayden laughs. “Hey, while we’re here, we should get you some new clothes.”

Liam looks down; he’s wearing black jeans, Converse, and a white t-shirt. “What’s wrong with these?” he asks.

“Nothing. But I’ve seen you wear those jeans at least two hundred out of the last two hundred and fifty days. It wouldn’t kill you to have another pair.”

“I like this pair. Can I buy the same pair as a backup?”

“… No.”

“What! Why?”

“You can buy the same pair in a different colour.”

“Then they’re not the same pair!”

Hayden giggles and loops her arm through his. “Come on,” she coaxes. “Imagine if you went out on a date with Brett and you had a brand new outfit, sweetie. He’d be all over you.”

“Don’t call me sweetie,” Liam says, “and he’s already all over me no matter what I’m wearing, so-” Hayden’s grinning at him toothily; he’s said too much. “That’s not the point, the point is that he likes these clothes, and-”

“Liam, like it or not, you’re going to have to buy new clothes eventually,” Hayden says patiently.

“I don’t like it,” Liam says stubbornly. “You can’t make me like it.”

“Okay, how about this?” Hayden compromises. “We go to the food court and I’ll buy you beef and black bean stir fry, then we do a little shopping. Just a little.”

“Froyo,” Liam says, crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Froyo. Not beef and black bean.”

“Liam, froyo isn’t a meal,” Hayden moans.

“Froyo or no dice,” he says, grinning at the torn expression on her face. He knows she’s going to cave; she’s wanted him to buy new clothes since they moved here.

Ten minutes later, Liam’s sitting in the food court with a mountain of frozen yoghurt and toppings, beside himself with glee. Hayden sits across from him, trying to look disapproving but only managing to look fondly exasperated instead.

“Hold still,” she says, just as Liam’s digging his spoon in.

“What? Why?”

Hayden takes out her phone and takes a picture - Liam even smiles for her. She’s laughing as she types out a message, hits send, and puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Who was that to?” Liam asks suspiciously.

“Brett,” she giggles.

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” Liam mutters, eating a spoonful of his yoghurt. “Now it’s like you’re comparing notes or something.”

His phone vibrates. He puts the spoon down, wincing as his brain freezes over, and checks it.

 **From** : Talbutt, 2:04PM  
Are you fucking KIDDING me?! O_O

Liam grins.

 **To** : Talbutt, 2:04PM  
Jealous much? :-)

“What’s he saying?” Hayden asks.

“He said "are you fucking kidding me” which I think, translated, means, “I really like you but I don’t want you to get fat anytime soon”. I’m just guessing though.“

"That’s a pretty solid guess,” Hayden says, smiling. “How’re things going, anyway?”

“Pretty good,” Liam says, not mentioning their interrupted session on the couch or what occurred later. “He wants me to meet his family.”

“Really?” she asks excitedly. “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah.” He’s nervous, actually. “Yeah, but I uh - I really have to tell him about my dad, Hayds. He was drinking a few nights ago and I got all fucking weird about it. He just - he should know.”

Hayden nods, looking a little more serious. “Do you know how you’re gonna tell him?” she asks softly. “Like… any ideas?”

“None,” Liam says gloomily. “How the fuck do I just - you know "hey, Brett, I finish work at three, by the way my dad was a raging, abusive alcoholic”. How do you just slip that casually into conversation?“

"Maybe you shouldn’t slip it in casually,” she says quietly. “Maybe you should actually sit him down and tell him you need to talk about something.”

“He’ll think I’m breaking up with him if I do that.”

“No he won’t. You’re very obviously whipped. And besides, he…” She pauses here. “He seems pretty level-headed,” she finishes. “If you tell him you need to talk to him about something, he’s only going to be concerned for you. We all know he worries about you, Liam. Just be upfront about it.”

“What if he thinks I’m broken or something?”

“He won’t think you’re broken, Liam. You’re not. But if you’re worried about him thinking that or being worried about you, why don’t you just tell him that you’re okay now, and that you’re managing, and that you thought he had the right to know?”

“I’m okay now? I’m managing? Who told you this?” he splutters, faux-confused, and she laughs. Hayden gets his humour, even when it is dangerously self-deprecating.

“Liam,” she chides gently. “Give yourself some credit. You’ve been doing a great job lately. You’re happier. You’re managing pretty much your entire life easily. It’s nice to see.”

He smiles a little. “Thanks, Hayds.”

“No problem.” She steals a spoonful of his frozen yoghurt. “Now finish so I can take you shopping.”

~*~

“I don’t understand how this happens every time,” Liam says to Mason, flustered. “I go out with her, she says we’re shopping for her, I come home with something new.”

“She’s trying to help you,” Mason replies absently. “Seriously, dude, plain white tees aren’t a fashion statement.”

“No, but they are a band,” Liam says with a grin. Mason stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head.

“I’m sure Brett will like them. You watch, Liam. Everything in those bags will be geared towards making Brett want to drop his pants for you.”

That has Liam feeling all different kinds of hot and flustered; he’s relieved when Mason ends up going out for the night, probably to hook up with someone. His projected plan for wooing Corey is taking longer than expected, he explains, and he can’t deal with the dry spell.

Liam sinks into bed sometime around eleven, his heart beating weirdly fast and hard in his chest, his skin hot and flushed. He’s not sick. He definitely feels almost feverish, but he’s not sick. He tosses and turns for a bit, trying to find the cool spot in the sheets. They warm to him instantly.

Finally, he kicks them off all together, lying there in just his boxers, and rolls over to grab his phone. He has a few Snapchat messages, but not from anyone he particularly cares about keeping up with; he unlocks it.

Brett’s picture stares back at him. Liam swallows; his inner thighs tingle, and he thinks about a few days ago, when he laid between Brett’s legs and Brett stroked him carefully - the first step of many towards learning his body, how to make him feel good.

“Fuck,” Liam mumbles unhappily, rolling over and pressing his face into his pillow. His hips move subconsciously against the bed; his dick is definitely interested in a little action, except it’s not content to be a solo performance anymore.

“You traitor,” he mumbles.

His phone vibrates; he almost leaps out of his skin with fright. It’s a call, and nobody ever calls him this late at night, unless it’s an emergency.

He lifts his phone up, squinting. His eyesight might be shit, but he can see it’s Brett; he answers straight away.

“Hi,” he says.

“Oh.” Brett sounds startled. “Hi. I didn’t expect you to pick up that fast.”

Liam smiles. “I had my phone already.”

“You’re not sleepy?”

“Nah. I went to bed ages ago. Just been tossing and turning really.”

“Oh,” Brett chuckles. “Right.”

There’s a long pause. “Why are you awake?” Liam asks eventually.

“I… can I make a confession?”

His stomach lurches painfully. “Yeah?” he asks warily.

“Don’t stress, it’s nothing bad,” Brett chuckles. “I just, uh - I got used to having you here. Around. I’m not good at sleeping without you now. I miss you.”

Liam feels like if he had more chill, maybe, and he was a lot less fucking whipped, maybe, he could pull of a smooth chuckle and something like, “You only saw me ten hours ago,” or something to that effect, anyway.

The thing is, he has no chill, he’s totally whipped, and the first thing out of his mouth is, “I have a confession too. I’ve been staring at my phone lockscreen for fifteen minutes.”

Brett laughs, delightedly, like he’s happily surprised. “You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah. Uh, so did Hayden.”

“Well, what can I say, Li? I’m a people pleaser.”

Liam smiles, wishes Brett could see it. “I thought it was bad news. When you called.”

“Nope. Just missed your voice.”

Liam smiles wider. “Cool,” he says, and Brett laughs again. There’s another long pause, but it’s comfortable - Brett doesn’t expect him to say anything.

“I wish you were here,” Liam says.

“Really? Why?”

“I miss you too. And I um…”

“What’s up?” Brett’s voice comes curiously.

“I dunno. I just… was thinking. About the other day. And looking at my phone screen.” Liam laughs awkwardly. “I really wish you were here, just so we could do it again. Maybe I can do it to you next time.”

There’s a moment of silence. “Brett?” Liam asks timidly.

“You made me hard,” Brett’s voice says faintly. “That’s not fair.”

“Well, come over then,” Liam teases. “We can fix it.”

There’s another long pause. “Is that a serious offer?”

Liam sits up a little. “It is if you’re serious about driving over here at eleven thirty,” he chuckles, mostly just to disguise the eagerness in his voice.

“I’ll see you soon,” Brett says, and the call drops.

Liam grins, flops back onto his back, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. His phone vibrates before he can get comfortable; a message from Brett.

 **From** : Talbutt, 11:38PM  
What are you wearing?

Liam licks his lips, still kind of grinning to himself. He really likes where this is going.

 **To** : Talbutt, 11:38PM  
Boxers :-)

He leans back, waits. He doesn’t want Brett to text and drive; he’s assuming Brett hasn’t left yet, and is probably getting some stuff to stay the night. He hopes, anyway.

 **From** : Talbutt, 11:39PM  
Nothing else?

 **To** : Talbutt, 11:39PM  
Just boxers. Nothing else :-)

His boxers are showing that his dick is fairly eager to have Brett here as of half an hour ago; he resists touching himself, because he doesn’t want to be totally worked up when Brett gets here.

 **From** : Talbutt, 11:41PM  
Pic? Pls?

 _It’s not like he’s asking for a dick pic_ , Liam thinks to himself. _Besides, this is fun._

He reaches over and turns the lamp on, then takes a very, very awkwardly angled photo of himself from the waist down and hits send, not paying too much attention to it. He thinks it’d be a bit weird to find his own sexts gratifying.

 **From** : Talbutt, 11:43PM  
I’m gonna get so many fucking speeding tickets tonight lmao

Liam actually laughs aloud at that.

 **To** : Talbutt, 11:44PM  
I’ll make it worth your while, promise :-)

He doesn’t get another text, which he’s not that upset about, because it means Brett is on his way here. Liam really didn’t think he’d be the sort of person to ask someone over for a booty call at nearly midnight, but here he is - his boyfriend’s driving to sneak into his dorm and Liam’s half-hard just from the anticipation of it.

It’s barely fifteen minutes later that there’s a quiet tap on his dorm door; Liam hurries to it, pulls it open with a dopey grin on his face.

Brett leans down and kisses him the moment the door is open, and Liam grabs his shirt - drags him into the room before making sure the door is shut.

“How many speeding tickets did you get?” he breathes.

Brett’s barely paying attention to what Liam’s saying; his hands are everywhere, running up and down Liam’s feverishly hot skin and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. “Like seven,” he mumbles; his mouth is moving down Liam’s neck. “You’re so warm. You smell so good.”

“Seven? That’s a lot of apologising I have to do.”

“I love these,” Brett groans, pulling on Liam’s boxers again. “Fuck, they look amazing on you. And I loved your picture.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could see-” Brett reaches down, grips him firmly, and Liam lets out a shaky breath. “You’re hard already,” Brett murmurs. “You were hard in the photo, I could see it.”

Liam lifts Brett’s shirt and hoodie. “Take these off,” he mumbles back.

Brett strips them off, climbs out of his jeans, and then they’re toppling onto the bed - Liam’s on the bottom again, not that he cares, really. Brett’s rubbing him through his boxers, and he’s gritting his teeth and rolling his hips - he thought Brett being here would help his skin cool off, but it hasn’t. It’s made him worse, if anything; the room feels about a hundred degrees, and he’s burning up.

“Liam,” Brett says. “I wanna take these off you.”

“Go ahead,” Liam says, arching his hips to help out. He isn’t self-conscious about Brett seeing him naked, oddly; Brett’s all over him, clearly wants him, and Liam’s not lacking in the equipment department, so to speak-

Brett’s hand closes around him. He shudders and grips the sheets with his right hand; with his left, he’s decided to be brave and reach for Brett.

“You don’t have to-” Brett starts.

“I want to,” Liam breathes, and he’s tugging Brett’s briefs down.

His first thought, upon seeing it, is that it’s big - bigger than he was expecting, maybe - and cut. It’s heavier than his own, a little more curved. The way Brett shudders and moans when Liam strokes it curiously is singlehandedly the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

Brett moves, slots in between Liam’s hips and legs, and then begins to lower himself down. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Liam whispers back, shivering when their bellies and chests touch - when Brett reaches down to stroke them together. Liam lifts his hips again, almost desperately; he doesn’t want Brett to stop, ever.

“Relax,” Brett murmurs, smiling. “Don’t worry.”

Liam nods, and Brett’s mouth is on his, soft at first, and then a little harder - Brett’s testing him, Liam realises, seeing if he’s going to try and take control of the situation.

He doesn’t want to. He lies back in the bed, pliant and relaxed. Brett presses down on him, into him. His dick is throbbing against Liam’s; there’s precome on Liam’s stomach now, and he’s not sure whose it is, only that he doesn’t care.

“You’re so warm,” Brett whispers as he crowds into Liam’s space. Liam loves it; loves Brett’s weight on his hips, how broad he is between his legs, the feel of Brett’s hipbones digging into the soft flesh on his inner thighs. “Fuck, Liam. You’re like a furnace.”

Liam leans up, pulls Brett down with an arm around his neck. “I’ve been like this all night,” he mumbles into the soft skin on Brett’s shoulder. It’s muscular, smooth; Liam gives it a little bite, mostly playful, and Brett shudders underneath him. “Just - I can’t get cool.”

“I don’t want you to,” Brett murmurs back. “I love it when you’re like this.” His head dips; his hair brushes Liam’s cheek, then his neck, and his mouth closes around Liam’s nipple. Liam shivers and whines, uses one hand to hold Brett’s side tightly, the other to wrap around Brett’s, on their dicks.

Brett moans, pushing forward a little harder than before. “Do you wanna move?”

“No,” Liam mumbles. “I wanna stay here.”

“Okay.” Brett runs his free hand up Liam’s side, back down, and then back up - only this time, he smooths his palm over Liam’s belly, coming to stop right in the middle of his chest. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Liam doesn’t know what to say to that; he finds the crook of Brett’s neck and - before he even really knows what he’s doing - begins to nibble away at the junction of Brett’s neck and shoulder, the soft part of his body where his back muscles rise into soft curves.

Brett breathes out against his shoulder; he squeezes them, and Liam bites a little harder than what he intended to. Still, the noise Brett makes isn’t one of pain. That’s how Liam works out that Brett kind of likes being bitten, at least in this context.

“Liam,” Brett says softly.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. Felt like saying your name. I wanna kiss you.”

Liam tips his head back, kisses Brett gently, and then a little harder as Brett begins to speed up; he locks his legs around Brett’s hips, giving a short, surprised exhale when Brett puts his arm under Liam’s neck and cups the back of his head - and then tugs his hair, forcing it back.

Liam whimpers, surprising himself more than Brett, probably; Brett hesitates, loosens his grip.

“No,” Liam breathes. “You just surprised me. Keep going.”

Brett tugs his hair again, gains access to his throat, and begins leaving a trail of hickeys down his jaw and throat; Liam pushes his hips up, wishing Brett would speed up, so desperately hard he kind of wants to cry from it.

“Brett,” he says. “Please. C'mon-”

“Please what?” Brett murmurs, somewhere near the base of his neck.

“Faster. Please?”

“Mm, okay,” Brett groans. “Fuck, you always ask so nicely. It does my head in. I wanna make you wait, but-”

“Faster,” Liam whimpers.

“But then you do _that_.” Brett’s panting now, jerking them both a faster and holding on a little tighter. “I can’t deal with that.”

“Sorry,” Liam whispers, leaning up to kiss him. Brett’s grip on his hair is still pretty firm, but Liam doesn’t mind; he likes being close, he trusts Brett, and he loves the way Brett can’t seem to get enough of his jaw and neck.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Brett murmurs.

Liam breathes out - a whiny, whistling noise. Truth be told, he’s already close, but he’s trying to hold back a little bit.

Brett’s thumb brushes the head of his dick, smearing the bead of precome that’s formed there. Liam shudders violently, squeezing his legs so tightly around Brett’s waist, Brett grunts.

“You trying to crush me?”

“Not trying - do that again, please.”

“This?” Brett strokes the head, focusses on it for a moment - then he speeds up his stroking, and Liam’s hand moves with him. Brett’s thumb brushes that spot on every pass, and soon Liam’s thighs are shaking; his breath is hurtling in and out of his chest like some kind of runaway train, and he can feel a bead of sweat crawl down his neck.

“Brett,” he gasps. “I’m pretty close.”

Brett straightens a little. “Me too,” he whispers. Liam’s inner thighs are tingling, and there’s pleasure racing down his spine at regular intervals, and he can feel it - his orgasm, curled low and tight in his belly, just out of reach.

He squeezes his hand; Brett’s stutters in its movement, and Liam sees his eyes close. He whimpers, loudly - so loudly Liam’s almost worried people will hear - and then he’s coming hard, right across their hands and Liam’s own cock and belly.

“Liam,” he groans, lurching down and catching him in a messy kiss.

Brett’s orgasm - the sensation of Brett’s cock pulsing against his - is what ends up being Liam’s own undoing. The heat in his stomach unfurls and he releases in Brett’s hand, moaning into Brett’s mouth, still having his hair tugged on.

For a moment, it’s quiet; they’re both recovering, panting hard. Liam’s legs go slack like someone’s slashed the muscles in them, and Brett’s resting his forehead against Liam’s shoulder, breathing heavily - only pausing to lick his lips and swallow audibly.

“Fuck,” Liam breathes. “I’m really glad you came.”

There’s a pause, and then Brett laughs a little. “Good choice of words, Li.”

Liam giggles a little too - he can blame the noise on the hour if he has to - and reaches a hand up to push Brett’s hair out of his eyes. Brett smiles at him.

“Got any tissues?”

“Top drawer,” Liam says, nodding vaguely at the bedside table.

Brett leans over, opens the drawer, and pulls them out clumsily, beginning to clean them both up a little bit. “We should shower,” he whispers. “Will we get in trouble if we go together?”

“Probably,” Liam murmurs sleepily. “You wanna go first?”

“Yeah, thanks. Won’t be long. Can I borrow a towel?”

“Back of the door.”

Brett grabs it, briefly pulling on his boxers to go to the dorm showers. Liam sits up just so he doesn’t fall asleep, puts his glasses on, and checks his phone. His last text is from Brett - telling Liam he’s here. Liam smiles.

Brett’s back before long; he smiles when he enters, the towel wrapped around his waist. “You know,” he murmurs, keeping his voice down - it has to be past midnight - “Coming back to you, naked, only wearing glasses… kind of makes me wish I could get hard again this fast.”

Liam smiles as he takes his glasses off. “I always thought my glasses make me look kind of dorky,” he says. “But if you like them, maybe not.”

“No, you look super hot in them,” Brett says seriously, and Liam smiles wider. “Go have a shower. I, uh - brought some stuff, but if you don’t want me to stay…”

“I want you to stay,” Liam says with a smile. “I’ll be back soon.”

He doesn’t take long to shower and dry off, then head back to his room; he pulls on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, then climbs into bed. Brett’s already stretched out on the side near Liam’s bedside table; Liam crawls over him to settle down in the small space left near the wall.

“Your bed’s kind of comfy,” Brett admits. “Not that great for someone tall, but… you’ve got so many fucking blankets, it’s kind of hard not to be comfortable.”

Liam smiles. “Mason and I are regular homemakers. Well… Hayden thinks we’re messy, but…”

“Well, she doesn’t have to live here,” Brett chuckles. He’s spread out on his back, arms behind his head; Liam shuffles close to him.

“Did you really get seven speeding tickets?” Liam whispers.

Brett turns to him and smiles. “No.”

“Oh. Good,” Liam chuckles breathlessly, stretching out against Brett’s side happily. “Because I can barely afford to eat, you know. I really can’t pay off your speeding tickets.”

Brett’s hand strokes his spine carefully. “You okay for food?” he asks softly. “You aren’t really struggling to eat, are you?”

“Not usually. I was mostly joking. There is a reason I eat lots of bread, though.”

Brett nods. “Let me know if you need help, okay?”

“Thank you,” Liam says sincerely.

They lie like that for a while. Liam almost drifts off where he is - skin exposed to the chilly night air, legs still faintly shaking from his orgasm, hair mussed and his body and mind thoroughly and completely satisfied.

“Liam,” Brett whispers.

Liam cracks his eyes open; it’s almost one in the morning. “Mm?”

“Have you taken your Risperdal?”

Liam nods against Brett’s shoulder sleepily, wanting to burrow in close and never come out. Brett’s skin smells amazing, and it’s so soft, and he’s so warm.

“How come you aren’t passed out?”

“Psychiatrist tapered my dose,” Liam mumbles sleepily. “Doesn’t knock me around as much.”

“Oh. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam whispers back, and then yawns. “It’s good.”

“Sorry. Go to sleep.” He feels Brett shift, tug one of the blankets up over them.

“Thanks for coming over,” Liam murmurs into Brett’s shoulder.

He can hear the smile in Brett’s voice when he answers. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Li.”

~*~

Liam’s got boxing the next day; when he wakes up, it’s because Brett’s sliding out of bed and whispering that he has to go to work.

He’s barely awake as Brett kneels by the bed, crosses his arms on the side of the mattress, and whispers, “What are you doing later?”

Liam rubs his face against the pillow sleepily. “Boxing,” he mumbles.

“Where? What time?”

“It’s…” He yawns. “East End Boxing. I finish at twelve.”

“Okay.” Brett kisses his forehead. “I gotta go. Have some breakfast.”

“Will,” Liam calls after him, still fighting off the urge to yawn.

He lies in bed almost until it’s time to go to his boxing class; he probably only fell asleep sometime around two, and he doesn’t have anything else on today. Eventually, though, he groans, gets up, and changes into his gym clothes.

The bus ride is quiet - there’s only a bunch of old ladies on it, wearing pearls and smelling of lavender, all gossiping about something or another. Liam reminds himself to Skype his grandma; he hasn’t spoken to her in a while.

By the time he gets to his boxing lesson, he’s actually looking forward to it; his parents got him started boxing when his I.E.D interfered with his ability to play lacrosse, and it’s been really good for him so far; he enjoys it, it’s a good workout, and even when his I.E.D is fighting against the medication he’s on, boxing helps him relieve some tension.

Come to think of it, he hasn’t actually been fighting his I.E.D for a while now. Usually, when his dose is tapered - and sometimes it is, if he’s too tired or dopey and not functioning properly - he can feel it there, a constant, irritated buzz at the back of his head that he knows has the potential to become much, much worse. But on those days, he avoids people - unless it’s Hayden or Mason, who understand that he can’t help it - and waits until it simmers down. He hasn’t had an episode since before he left for college.

“Hey, Liam,” his instructor says cheerfully. He’s a shorter guy - a little taller than Liam, but not by much - laced with hard, tight muscles and with plugs in his ears, double piercings in his lip. “How’s your week been?”

“Pretty good.” Liam shoves his bag into one of the cubbies. “You?”

“Yeah, I had my kids most of the week. We went mini golfing. They kicked my ass.”

Liam laughs. “I suppose they’re miniature and you’re not.”

After that, they get started - Chris, his instructor, is quiet, but he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to fitness. Within ten minutes, Liam’s already feeling the burn in his arms and shoulders, know that it’s going to be infinitely worse when they start moving onto his legs.

“Keep going,” Chris encourages as Liam leans over and tries not to puke. “Almost done.”

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Liam wheezes, and Chris laughs, but encourages him to straighten out with his hands on Liam’s shoulders.

“Come on,” he says. “Up. That’s it. Five more rounds and you’re free.” He nods at the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the side of the gym facing the parking lot. “Besides, someone’s waiting for you, I think.”

Liam turns to look - surprised to see Brett sitting in the waiting area. He gives Liam a wave and a smile.

“Not expecting him?” Chris asks. “You look like you’ve won the lottery.”

“I didn’t know he was coming to get me.” Liam turns back to the bag. “But I have an audience now so I can’t look weak.”

Chris laughs. “Whatever motivates you, man.”

Liam knocks the last five rounds out quickly, even though it leaves him wheezing helplessly and sweating bullets. Chris claps him on the back.

“Good job. Same time next week?”

“Yeah,” Liam rasps; he really needs some water. “Thanks. See you then.”

“No worries. Tell your friend he should come,” Chris adds. “Could always use more clients.”

“I will,” Liam says, wondering if he should tell Chris that Brett’s not really his friend - unless Chris considers handjobs and kissing to be totally platonic acts of affection.

Liam grabs his stuff and jogs over to where Brett is. Brett stands up to greet him, smiling a little. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” Liam pants.

Brett looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

Liam laughs breathlessly. “From what?”

“This. Boxing. Even if it is hot.” He tilts his head and smiles fondly. “What’d that punching bag ever do to you, huh?”

Liam highly doubts watching him box is hot; he’s dripping with sweat, his hair is damp with it, and he probably smells really bad. Plus, he’s never been particularly fashionable in the fitness department, and he’s wearing a ratty old muscle tee and basketball shorts.

“It existed,” he says. “So - wait. Rescue me?”

“Yep. I’m kidnapping you away.”

“Are you rescuing me or kidnapping me? I’m confused,” Liam says, grinning.

“Both.” Brett’s smiling wider now. “Go have a shower and meet me out the front.”

Liam hops into the gym showers quickly, making sure to soap up properly and rinse the sweat out of his hair. Once he’s out, he puts deodorant on and gets dressed - blue jeans, sneakers Mason made him buy (Mason says he wears his Converse too often; Liam thinks you can never wear Converse too often) and shrugs into a black t-shirt with a flannel over the top.

Brett’s waiting for him outside; Liam’s still towelling his hair off as he exits the gym. “Wow,” Brett murmurs.

“What?” Liam asks self-consciously.

“You look really good. New outfit?”

Liam smiles. “Hayden took me shopping.”

“Hayden wouldn’t have told you to get the high tops,” Brett says. “I like them, but those were Mason’s idea.”

Liam makes a vague whining sound, kind of pleased by the way it softens Brett’s face into a warm smile and causes him to toss an arm around Liam’s neck. “Come on,” he chuckles. “Let’s go.”

“Where’re we going?” Liam asks eagerly. He’s kind of hungry - he usually gets home from his boxing sessions and wolfs down whatever he can find lying around.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise. I’m sure you’ll approve though. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Liam says cheerfully.

“Okay. Let’s go then.” Brett unlocks his car, and Liam tosses his gym bag in the back seat before climbing in and settling down. It’s sort of nice that he’s in Brett’s car often enough that the passenger seat is always adjusted to his comfort.

“You got anything on today?” Brett asks.

“Nope.” He’s actually sort of ahead with his studying for finals. “Why?”

“Okay, good,” Brett says with a smile.

“Where’re we going? Is it far?”

“About an hour away.”

“What’s an hour away?” Liam’s wracking his brains desperately. He can’t think of anything. “C'mon, give me a hint.”

Brett laughs, sounding surprised. “You’re kinda curious, huh? Just overall. And no, I’m not giving you a hint.” He motions to the glove box. “But I did bring chocolate.”

“You’re the best,” Liam says, opening the glove box to reveal a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. “Seriously. I mean it.”

“The easiest way to your heart is through food, huh?” Brett asks, smiling.

Liam eats two kisses at once, groaning and closing his eyes. “Yup.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Brett chastises, but he’s smiling. “So you don’t have anything else on today? Work? Class?”

Liam shakes his head, feeling a little confused.

“Cool,” Brett says, smiling. “I’m about to fucking woo you.”

“You already did,” Liam says, smiling. “I’m here to stay.”

“Relationships die when one or both people stop making an effort to woo the other person,” Brett says, quite seriously. “So I’m taking you on a date. And it’s gonna blow your fucking socks off.”

Liam laughs. “The fifth date was meant to be mine. And you’d better not. It’s cold outside.”

They drive for almost an hour, just like Brett said they would. Liam’s getting more and more excited the further they go; if his sense of direction isn’t fucking with him, they’re headed straight for the biggest lake in the area - one he’s been meaning to visit, but hasn’t had the chance to.

“Okay,” Brett says, turning into a town. “Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m surprising you, dweeb. Close your eyes.”

Liam shuts his eyes, feels the car stop. “Is this where you kill me?” he asks, and he hears Brett laugh, somewhere to his left.

“Yeah. I spent all this time getting to know you just to kill you and toss you in a ditch. C'mon.” The door opens; Brett’s hand is on top of his head. “Easy. Careful with your head. That’s it.”

Liam stumbles up. Brett’s got his arm; Liam’s smiling as he’s lead away from the car. “Where are we going?” he laughs. “What are you doing with me?”

“You’re in a good mood today, huh?” Brett asks fondly. “That’s good. Okay, you can open them.”

Liam opens his eyes.

He was right about the lake; it’s stretching so far and so wide he can barely make out people on the other side, and there are a few different piers extending outwards. To one side is a restaurant - built half over the water with seating on the deck.

“Wow,” Liam breathes.

“I’m buying lunch,” Brett says, smiling. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” Liam says, taking in his surrounds.

“You be my model for a few photos,” Brett says. “I’ve got an assignment to turn in. Which isn’t why I brought you out here… but it works. Really, really well.”

“I’ll be your model,” Liam says with a smile. “Wait - are we eating here?”

“Yeah, dummy,” Brett chuckles. “Come on, I made a reservation.”

The interior of the place is rustic, like something straight out of a holiday magazine; a waitress seats them with an impeccably cheerful disposition, then gets them water and menus. Liam keeps looking out over the lake; it’s really beautiful. If it weren’t as cold, he’d love to sit on the deck.

He orders an entree off the menu. Brett tells him not to worry about the price, but Liam’s mostly ordering off the entree menu because his appetite is absolutely shot and he can’t fathom eating a full meal - he doesn’t want to waste Brett’s money, or the food.

Brett orders a beer to go with his lunch; Liam keeps his face carefully blank as it arrives, well aware that Brett’s looking at him calculatingly. He definitely knows Liam’s got some sort of issue with the drinking, but he can’t quite work it out.

Liam wants to tell him. Wants to tell him everything; why he’s so weird about the drinking, why he’s neurotic, why he’s generally jumpy and finds it hard to trust people.

“I uh,” he says quietly.

Brett tilts his head. “Mm?”

And he chickens out, just like that. “Thanks for bringing me,” he finishes lamely, and Brett smiles at him - even though Liam can see, in his face, that he knew that’s not what Liam was originally going to say. Brett’s good, though, and doesn’t call him out on it.

Once they’ve finished lunch, they head outside. Brett’s got his camera; he doesn’t give any prompts or direction whatsoever, and for the most part, Liam forgets he has it until he hears the flutter of the camera shutter closing.

“Do you come here a lot?” Liam asks.

“Not so much,” Brett says with a light shrug. “I uh… I came with my ex once. Was trying to be romantic. He didn’t… well, it turned out badly.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. They’ve reached Brett’s car; he follows Brett’s lead as he hops up onto the hood and gets comfortable. Brett’s feet touch the ground, but Liam’s swing a little bit, his toes a few inches away from the gravel.

“It’s okay. I get to do it with you now. And your reaction was way better than his.”

Liam smiles. He’s about to say something else, but that’s when he spots them - ducks, waddling around in the grass right near the water’s edge, quacking softly.

“There’s ducks,” Liam breathes. He’s about to make a total idiot of himself but he can’t help it; he’s always had this thing about ducks, and Brett’s about to find out about it.

Brett turns to him, his expression crinkled in confusion.. “Huh?”

“There’s ducks!” Liam repeats. “Right there!”

“Uh… yeah.” Brett’s smiling. “Haven’t you seen a duck before?”

“I’ve seen ducks loads of times. I fucking love them, okay? They’re like geese, but less mean, and seagulls, but less demanding, and pelicans, but less intimidating. Ducks are like - are fucking awesome. They’re the pinnacle of avian evolution.”

Brett promptly chokes on his bite of sandwich; Liam pats him on the back quickly. “Liam,” he gasps, “our national symbol is a bald eagle. Bald eagles-”

“Can’t swim and are entirely carnivorous! You know what that says about us, Brett? It says we’re unadaptable and terrified of water.”

“Don’t get me started, Li. We’ll be here all night and you’ll end up realising that I’m a political nutjob with too many opinions to be taken seriously.”

“You’re just my type,” Liam says, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

Brett laughs, smiles, and puts an arm around Liam’s shoulders; Liam moves closer. The hood of Brett’s car is warm, but the air is cool, and he’s happy for any reason to be closer to Brett, really. He loves being able to fit here, under Brett’s arm, and know that he’s safe to do so.

“I’m really glad I met you,” Brett says. “My life is seriously so much better now.”

Liam blushes. “I don’t-”

“Just… listen to me, okay?” Brett’s hand plays with the collar of his shirt. “You make me feel brave, Liam. Just having you around - it makes me feel like I can deal with whatever’s thrown at me. And I haven’t felt like that in a really, really long time. With Mom’s cancer, and my ex, and everything in between - like the drinking - I haven’t felt like an even moderately stable human. But you… you changed that.”

Liam swallows. “Really?”

“Really. You help. Just by being there. You don’t even need to try, you know? You’re just… you. You’re just yourself. It helps a lot. Most people are so busy trying to be something they’re not, they barely even notice shit that’s right in front of their faces.”

“My therapist says if you get hung up on faking everything you lose sight of yourself eventually,” Liam says, and Brett’s lips twitch - then he’s laughing. Liam smiles. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just - that’s some Hallmark level wisdom right there,” Brett chuckles.

“Yeah, he’s a good therapist. He’s really, uh, spiritual? I think that’s the word I’m looking for.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Brett says. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“Um, therapy?”

Brett nods. Liam pauses before answering; nobody really asks him how it’s going, like, ever. Mostly because the only people that know are Hayden and Mason, and they usually let Liam come to them about it.

“Well, uh,” he starts - Brett looks away from him, like he’s suddenly realised his focus on Liam is making him a little nervous. “He’s decided he wants to take me off Risperdal. That’s why my doses are being tapered.”

“Why’s he want you off it?” Brett asks curiously. “It’s working for you, right?”

“He thinks lithium and fluoxetine - if I need it at all - will be better for me. Have less side effects. So he’s lowering my dosages.”

“From what?”

“Well, I was taking two milligrams a day overall at the moment, and he’s bringing that down to one over the next few weeks or so. I started a few nights ago and I can already feel it.”

“So how come he’s switching you?” Brett asks curiously. “If it’s working that is.”

“It’s been working less. He told me some bullshit about how it’s effective mostly for kids with anger management disorders - and I was a kid with an anger management disorder. But I’m not really a kid anymore, and it’s just not working as well for me. I’ve been really snappy with a few people lately.” Liam closes his eyes guiltily. “I hate it. Most people know it isn’t me, that I’m not all that cranky… when I’m on my meds, that is. But I don’t wanna pin it on I.E.D and have someone meet me and think, wow, I.E.D makes people terrible and I never want to know someone with it again. I’d rather they think I was an asshole than give it a bad rep.”

Brett nods. “I get it, I think. You’re pretty gentle though. If you don’t mind some input, I feel like it is your I.E.D that makes you snappy, and not you.”

Liam smiles. “Thanks.”

“And besides. You haven’t snapped at me. Who have you been irritable with?”

“Mostly just customers. I got shitty with Mason a few days ago, though. He was lecturing me on my diet again. I apologised straight away, but I felt bad.”

Brett nods. “Do you need anything from me?”

Liam smiles, shuffles closer, and twists their ankles together. “No. You’re already great to me.”

Brett runs a hand through his hair. “Making me blush,” he mumbles. “That’s my job. To make you blush.” He strokes Liam’s hair again. “Are you still okay to go to my parents’ place, then?”

“Huh? Yeah. Of course. Why?”

“Just checking. You said you were already feeling the reduced dose of Risperdal. If you’re withdrawing, or having a rough time, I don’t wanna make it worse for you.”

Liam shakes his head. “It’s okay. Mostly my appetite’s just shot.”

Brett nods. “Yeah. You ordered off the entree menu. I thought you were trying to save me money.”

Liam smiles. “It did have that added bonus. But there’s no point ordering something I’m not gonna eat. I’ll just - it might get worse the more he brings my dose down. So sorry in advance if I’m boring or moody.”

Brett smiles, kneads the back of Liam’s neck. “That’s okay. We’ll work through it, right?”

Liam nods quickly, grateful to have Brett on his side. “Yeah.”

~*~

It’s not long before he does start to feel the tapered dose a little more; on his next drop, a week later, he goes to bed feeling fine and wakes up with a pounding headache and his stomach rolling.

He’s so distracted by his headache that he totally forgets he and Brett are supposed to be going out that day; he takes Tylenol and is lying in bed, feeling sorry for himself, when there’s a knock on the door.

He doesn’t want to get up. But he does; he knows the headache will subside and that he’s not actually going to vomit, he just feels like he will. The best thing he can think of doing is to distract himself.

Brett looks surprised when he opens the door. “Hey,” he says. “Are you… wearing that out…?”

Liam blinks, feeling exceptionally confused and kind of sluggish. “Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t care what you wear,” Brett says quickly. “I just figure you wouldn’t want to go out in a panda t-shirt.”

Liam opens his mouth, then closes it, then tries to get with the program and work out what’s going on. “Out?” he asks dumbly.

Brett frowns. “Are you okay?”

That’s when it clicks; they’re meant to be going out today, just to mess around at the arcade, and Brett’s picking him up. It’s totally slipped his mind, and even though he knows what’s going on now, he’s still confused.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot, uh - can you give me a few minutes to-”

“Wait, wait,” Brett interrupts. “Did you taper your dose again?”

Liam nods. “Last night.”

Brett smiles softly. “Okay. We don’t have to go anywhere, you know. We can just hang out. You doing okay?”

“I have a headache,” Liam says blankly. “I took Tylenol about fifteen minutes ago.”

Brett nods, massaging the back of his neck soothingly. “Alright. You wanna just hang out here? I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

So that’s what they do; they hang around in Liam’s dorm room, and at some point, his headache and nausea lets up enough that they can go and get some food from the cafeteria. Liam hates the cafeteria food, but he’s not wasting money on anything else when he’s not hungry and not entirely convinced that he won’t throw up.

“So uh… my mom’s invited you over for dinner,” Brett says awkwardly.

Liam looks up; he’s finally had a shower and he’s towelling his hair dry. “Really?” he asks. “When?”

“Two nights from now. But if you’re withdrawing-”

Liam shakes his head. “I’m usually only like this for a day,” he says with a small smile. “After that it sort of lets up and I can get on with my life. Two days from now I should be fine.”

“Okay,” Brett says, and he’s starting to look kind of eager - happy in a way Liam hasn’t really seen him before. Nervously happy, maybe. “Well, yeah. It’d be nice to have you over. Do you have work that day?”

“Morning shift, I think, but I’ll check with Hayden.” He’s texting her even as he answers. “Sorry I’m boring.”

“You’re never boring,” Brett says. “I like being around you.”

“All we’ve done is watch TV and get dinner,” Liam laughs awkwardly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Brett says. “But… you know, my ex kind of played games with me, and there was a lot of drama. You aren’t like that and I love it.”

Liam nods, considering his next words carefully. Brett’s dropped more and more bits of information about his ex the last week or so, and Liam’s liking the guy less and less with every breadcrumb he picks up. He seems like he really fucked Brett over - not that he can really tell, because unless it’s his mom he’s talking about, Brett’s always calm, and, above everything else, always composed. Liam’s guessing that if he dug deeper, he’d find more than stoic throwaway comments about this ex.

Brett hasn’t volunteered that side of himself, though, so Liam won’t push. Instead, he says, “I’m glad you love that I’m boring,” and succeeds in making Brett laugh. He feels proud of that; he’s put an incredible amount of time and energy into learning how to read Brett, and it’s paid off. He knows how to make Brett smile and laugh and how to console him when he’s down and when to use humour.

“Like I said.” Brett’s tugging him closer by the wrist; Liam lets him. “You aren’t boring. There’s a big difference between boring and safe.”

Liam thinks about that. He’d never even considered that someone would find a safe harbour in his ribs and lungs and heart when he himself hardly feels like they belong to him sometimes - like the light in his lighthouse is faulty, burned out, a flickering remnant of what it once was. But maybe he only thinks that because he can only see the circuitry of the light; Brett’s staring directly into its beam.

He smiles, goes over to Brett, and pushes him back onto the bed, climbs on top of him, and straddles his waist. Brett puts his arms behind his head, smirks up at him.

“I can’t wait to meet your family,” Liam says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, it’d make sense if I stayed at your place the night before, so we could go together. And, you know… as long as we kept everything off the couch…”

“Do you want to do PG-13 things with me?” Brett asks seriously, and Liam cracks up into a fit of laughter. He feels Brett shaking beneath him - trying to stifle his own giggles - and leans down to tickle him.

“I want to do so many PG-13 things with you,” Liam chuckles.

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you now,” Brett points out innocently.

Liam smiles. “True,” he says, and leans down to kiss him.

~*~

He’s decidedly less relaxed about meeting Brett’s family when the time actually rolls around.

It’s forty five minutes from Brett’s apartment with Pete; Liam spends the entire drive fidgeting, alternating between pretending he’s cool with it (Liam’s never been cool in his life so this fails spectacularly) and begging Brett for advice.

“Don’t treat Mom like she’s sick,” Brett tells him sagely, “and Dad is a real hardass. So don’t be surprised if he’s sort of prickish at the start.”

“Right,” Liam says nervously. It’s mostly Brett’s dad he’s worried about; he’s not good at acting like a decently-functioning human around middle-aged adult men, for obvious reasons - but Brett doesn’t know that, because Liam still hasn’t fucking told him about his own dad.

 _Is it too late to tell him now?_ Liam wonders nervously. _Maybe I should. Maybe I should just come out and say it._

But he doesn’t, and soon enough, they’re pulling up to the house. It’s pretty large, as far as houses go, made with red brick and dark stained wooden accents. Pretty. Normal.

As they walk up the steps to the house, Liam takes his glasses out of the neck of his shirt and puts them on - then takes them off, cleans them, and slides them back onto his face. It’s kind of a nervous habit, and Brett knows that; he puts a hand on Liam’s lower back, smiling comfortingly.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says kindly. “They’re gonna love you.”

“Well I am,” Liam mumbles, embarrassed. “What if they don’t like me?”

“How could they not like you?” Brett asks fondly, stroking Liam’s lower back soothingly. “You look great, you smell great - your glasses are cute as hell - and you brought chocolates. If they don’t like you, I’m never coming back here.”

Liam squints at him. “How long have we been together again?” he asks suspiciously.

Brett just smiles, recognising his attempt at deflection, and says, “It’s gonna be fine, yeah?” before stepping forward and unlocking the front door.

Liam follows him into the house nervously. The first thing he notices is that it’s warm; he’s wearing a grey crewneck sweatshirt over one of his nicer t-shirts, and he’s already tempted to take it off. He doesn’t, just because he doesn’t know if he’s warm because of nerves or because it's actually hot in here. He's willing to bet his life on the former.

“Mom,” Brett calls. “Dad. Whoever’s here.”

There are rapid footsteps in the hallway, and Liam looks up to see Brett’s mom entering. She’s tall - taller than Liam is, even - and has the same blue eyes and complexion Brett does. She’s wearing a brightly-patterned headscarf and a wide smile; Liam’s almost instantly relaxed.

“Hi, boys,” she says. “You must be Liam!”

Liam smiles shyly. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Talbot.”

He’s surprised when she pulls him into a warm, motherly hug, but pleasantly so; he hugs her back, doesn’t miss the startled, worried expression on Brett’s face - Brett, who knows he’s iffy about physical contact but not why.

“It’s lovely to meet you, sweetie,” she says, stepping back and taking him in slowly. “Oh, you’re gorgeous!”

“Thank you,” Liam mumbles, embarrassed but smiling a little.

“Mom,” Brett says, looking like he might be in physical pain. “He’s standing right there. He can hear you.”

“I know he can hear me! You always did go for the ones that had nice smiles, love. Liam, sweetie, I love your glasses.”

“Oh, uh - thank you,” Liam says, again, feeling stupidly out of his depth. “My mom picked the frames.” He’s not sure what makes him say it really; Brett’s been encouraging him to wear his glasses more, especially around his dorm and Brett’s apartment, instead of carrying his contacts and solution and getting dry eyes from it. Maybe that has something to do with it; he’s not used to people complimenting him on them.

“Well, she’s got fantastic taste,” Mrs. Talbot says cheerfully.

Liam smiles a little. “I’ll tell her. Usually me and my stepdad say she has awful taste, so she’ll like someone agreeing with her.”

“Mom,” Brett says. “Liam brought you guys chocolates.”

“Oh, well!” She gives Liam’s cheek a soft pat. “He’s welcome to stay forever then. Just leave him here at the end of the night.”

Brett’s jaw drops. “You always tell me to leave because I eat all your food!”

“Oh, bless him,” Mrs. Talbot says to Liam, winking. “He’s so hard done by.”

Liam laughs, surprising himself. But Brett’s mom feels just as safe to him as Brett does; it’s clear to him who Brett takes after now. His mom is sweet. Gentle.

“Are you warm enough, love? Brett mentioned you’re not used to the cold yet, so we turned the heating up a little for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Liam says, surprised. “I’m okay. I’m just kind of a baby about it really.”

Mrs. Talbot is about to answer when the sound of claws skittering across floorboards can be heard, and a fat black Labrador comes hurtling out of the hallway.

“Oh, hell - Samson, no!” Brett moans.

Liam grins, kneeling down to pat the dog thoroughly. “He’s okay,” he says, not caring if he gets fur all over himself. “My jeans are black. He’s black. Won’t even be able to tell.”

Samson licks Liam’s hand, evidently thrilled at getting so much attention.

“Liam loves animals,” Brett explains to his mom. “The only reason he’s dating me is because he found out about our cat.”

“Is that true, Liam?” Mrs. Talbot asks, faux-serious.

“Absolutely,” Liam says, smiling up at her. He’s pleased when she laughs; she reminds him of his own mom, except she’s a little less highly-strung.

“It’s so nice to meet you, honey,” she says warmly. “Come on through.”

“Thank you.” He’s surprised, but happy, when Brett puts a hand on his lower back and leaves it there as they walk into the living room. Brett’s parents’ house is huge, spacious - two soaring, open-plan stories of dark wood and floor to ceiling windows.

Brett’s little sister is on the couch. She’s got short blonde hair and huge blue eyes that are frighteningly similar to Brett’s, but she’s shorter, maybe a little stockier.

“Lori,” Brett says. “This is Liam. Liam, Lori.”

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” She’s sitting up straight, smiling, totally unaffected by his presence in her life. “Wow, you’re lots cuter in real life. Brett showed me your Facebook profile.”

“Lori!” Brett hisses.

“Oh, he did, huh?” Liam asks, grinning. The idea that Brett talked about Liam, to his family - showed them what he looked like and was excited to bring him around - is the first concrete evidence Liam’s received that Brett’s just as whipped as he is.

“Yeah,” Lori says, nodding. “He wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Liam turns to grin at Brett, just catching Brett’s throat-slicing motion at Lori. Lori giggles.

“And this,” Mrs. Talbot says, entering the room again, “is Nate.”

Nate. Brett’s three-year old brother, being carried into the room. He’s got a shock of white-blonde curls on his head and wide blue eyes - he looks like Brett.

“Brett!” Nate squeals delightedly. Brett takes him, grinning, and squeezes him tightly.

“Hey, buddy!” Brett says. “You got bigger.”

“No,” Nate giggles.

“No?”

“No.”

“Mmm, word of the week, huh? Hey, I want you to meet someone.” Brett turns towards Liam; Nate stares at him with that unnerving, steady little-kid gaze, and Liam smiles awkwardly. It’s gratifying to see Nate mirror the reaction.

“This,” Brett says, “is Liam. Liam’s my boyfriend.”

“Liyum,” Nate says.

“Close enough,” Liam says, noticing Brett about to correct him. “Hi, Nate.”

Nate reaches out; Liam hesitates, but he knows the kid wants Liam to hold him, so he takes him carefully; if Nate cares that Liam’s holding him awkwardly, it doesn’t show. He smiles, laughs, as he touches Liam’s glasses.

“Careful, buddy,” Brett says quickly. “Liam needs those to see.”

Liam smiles; Nate’s pretty fucking cute. “You wanna try them on?” he asks.

“Yes!” is the bubbly, resounding answer he gets; Liam shifts awkwardly, takes his glasses off, and puts them on Nate’s face, watching as he screws his nose up.

“I can’t see,” he says, sounding confused.

“That’s because my eyes are broken and yours aren’t,” Liam chuckles, taking them off him and putting them back on his own face. He’s surprised when Nate lurches up to kiss his cheek sloppily.

The kid smiles at him. “Better!”

“Absolutely,” Liam agrees, and Brett laughs.

“Oh!” Mrs. Talbot says suddenly. “I totally forgot to check with Brett - you aren’t vegetarian, are you? Or vegan?”

“Nope,” Liam says.

“Allergic to anything?”

Liam shakes his head with a smile, and she sighs with relief. “Alright! That’s okay then. We have roast lamb for dinner.”

Liam’s mouth pretty much waters. “That sounds awesome,” he says eagerly.

The front door opens; Liam turns in time to see Brett’s dad coming through. He’s tall as well, but he’s got dark hair and blue eyes - Brett doesn’t look all that much like him, really. His face is smooth, expression almost unforgiving.

“Graham,” Mrs. Talbot says, smiling. “Look who showed up!”

She takes Nate from him. The tension is so thick Liam could probably cut it with a knife; Mr. Talbot doesn’t want him here, that much is obvious. He and Brett are staring at each other - and Liam recognises the slight tilt of Brett’s chin. It’s a challenge.

He wipes his hands on his jeans nervously. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Talbot,” he says, just barely managing to make eye contact as he holds out his hand. “I’m Liam.”

The handshake is slow and loose, like Mr. Talbot really doesn’t want to touch him. “Pleasure,” he says, sounding like it’s anything but. “I see you’ve brought my wayward son with you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brett mutters.

Liam kind of freezes up; he’s not sure what to do, and he already doesn’t really like Brett’s dad, and he feels like disliking someone’s dad within a minute of meeting him in a recipe for familial disaster.

“He brought me,” Liam says, embarrassed when his voice comes out barely more than a whisper. Brett’s staring at him worriedly, and Mrs. Talbot’s clearly worked out that something is making him nervous, because she claps her hands together and forces a smile.

“Alright. Brett, why don’t you get Nate ready for dinner? Liam, I could use your help in the kitchen.”

He’s so fucking grateful for an out that he almost runs after her, only relaxing once they’re in the kitchen together.

“Don’t mind Brett and Graham,” she says kindly. “They usually butt heads. It’s normal.”

“Okay,” Liam says, resisting the urge to chew his lip or his fingernails. “Um, what can I help with?”

“Can you set the table, honey? Here, I’ll show you where everything is.”

Liam starts setting the table while Mrs. Talbot takes the roast out of the oven; she doesn’t seem like she’s had a recent stint in the ICU at all. Although, Brett did mention that she had her last chemo session a week ago, and that she’s usually only sick for the first few days afterwards.

He’s almost done with the table when there are footsteps in the kitchen; he jumps and turns, finds Brett standing right behind him. He still looks concerned.

“Liam,” he murmurs. “Hey. You okay?”

Liam nods, not trusting himself to speak. Brett strokes his back lightly for a moment, looking helpless - he knows something’s wrong, but not what, and Liam really, really should have told him, because he can’t now, and he just looks like a fucking idiot.

“Dad… I’m sorry,” Brett whispers. “Hopefully he’ll cool it at dinner.”

Liam gives a small smile; Brett leans down to kiss him gently, then pulls away. “You know how to set a table,” he says with a smile.

“It was one of my jobs back home,” Liam mumbles, making an attempt to find his voice. He’ll focus on conviction in his tone later. “So yeah.”

“Cool,” Brett says, like it’s genuinely the best thing he’s heard all day.

Dinner’s even worse, if that was possible. Liam’s quiet, which he’s sure is throwing Brett off too, because he hasn’t ever really been like this around Brett - and Brett can tell that this is a step up from his usual level of reservedness.

Graham and Mrs. Talbot - she tells Liam to call her Cathy - have a stilted conversation; Lori sits next to Liam and they get talking about guitars, because Lori’s starting to learn. Liam likes her; she’s bright and vivacious, just like Brett is - like their mom.

“So, Liam,” Mr. Talbot says cutting his steak with such precision Liam’s almost frightened, “how old are you?”

He’s so startled at being addressed it takes him a moment to answer. “I’m eighteen,” he replies softly.

Mr. Talbot looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Eighteen?”

“I’m a freshman,” Liam says. He doesn’t want to back down and let Brett’s dad walk all over him, but he also doesn’t want to piss the guy off when it’s clearly already going to be hard to win him over. Mr. Talbot seems to have already decided that he doesn’t like Liam, and that fucking sucks.

Mr. Talbot looks at Brett across the table. “He’s quite young,” he says, his tone unreadable. “Younger than-”

“Enough, Graham,” Mrs. Talbot snaps, then turns her attention to Liam with a kind, if somewhat strained smile. “You’re a freshman? What are you studying, sweetie?”

“Criminology and forensics,” he says, not missing the way Mr. Talbot raises his eyebrows. He can’t interpret the expression, so he stays focussed on Brett’s mom instead. “I’m taking some law as electives too.”

“That sounds fascinating,” she says, and seems totally genuine as she says it. “Do you enjoy it? What kind of things are you studying?”

“I really like it,” he says with a small smile. “I mean, some it’s kind of morbid. But the criminology part is mostly why crimes are committed and how to define it, and forensics is figuring out the how and when. Law’s, um, kind of doing my head in, but it’s interesting. We’re doing criminal law right now.”

Brett’s watching him attentively, a small smile playing around his mouth. His mom looks utterly thrilled for some reason Liam can’t work out.

“All well and good,” Mr. Talbot says. “What are you intending to do when you graduate?”

Liam straightens his back a little bit. “I’m going to go into the special victims unit,” he says. “Hopefully working to get disadvantaged and abused kids and mothers away from the people hurting them and seeing them through the court process.”

Before Mr. Talbot can speak, Brett butts in. “I didn’t know that,” he says with a small smile.

Liam gives him a small smile. “Well, you do now.”

“We already spend quite a bit of money funding support systems for abuse victims,” Mr. Talbot says. “What makes you think we need more?”

Liam can answer this question as easily as if Mr. Talbot had just asked for his full name. “The amount of money spent on helping sexualised crime victims and domestic abuse victims doesn’t even cover the amount of victims we have,” he says. “And the figure of unreported crimes for those areas combined is ninety seven percent. It’s called the dark figure of crime. We can’t stop it happening if the victims feel too ostracised and condemned to step forward and report what’s happening.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“Improved awareness about what actually constitutes as abuse,” Liam says. “Increased education in law enforcement training programs. More social workers. Outreach programs. Actual enforcement of AVO’s. Heavier punishments for people who commit crime, not just a slap on the wrist. There are thousands of options.”

There’s a long pause. Mr. Talbot says nothing; Mrs. Talbot is glaring at him across the table.

“Can I be excused?” Lori asks uneasily.

“Of course, honey,” Mrs. Talbot says.

She gets up and leaves; Liam wishes he could do the same. Instead, he’s forced to sit through another long, tense, horribly awkward pause; he eats a forkful of peas and forces them down. Clearly, he's fucked up somewhere; he's not going to win no matter how he responds to Brett's dad, which is thoroughly depressing. If he speaks his mind, he's ignored - as he's being now - and if he doesn't say anything, he's targeted for it.

“So,” Brett mutters, stabbing a roast potato with his fork, “did he pass your ridiculous test, Dad?”

Liam blinks. He hadn’t been aware he was actually being tested, although in hindsight, it sort of makes sense.

“He’s much smarter than the last one, I’ll give you that,” Mr. Talbot says.

Brett almost throws his knife down, rubbing his face. “For the last fucking time, I know Andrew was a mistake,” he snaps. “I get it. Loud and clear. You gonna keep punishing me for it? How long for? You tell me I have to move on and I-”

“Brett,” Mrs. Talbot interrupts. “Go upstairs. Cool off.”

Brett leaves the table; Liam stares at his plate, feeling nervous. There’s a long silence.

“Well,” Mr. Talbot says. “That went about as well as expected. I’m going to get started on the laundry.”

With that, he leaves. It’s just Liam and Mrs. Talbot at the table; he’s surprised when she reaches over and grasps his hand. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she murmurs sadly. “I didn’t want it to go like that.”

“It’s okay,” Liam says. “The food was great. Thank you.” He motions vaguely at the table. “Do you want help with all this?” he asks.

“That would be lovely, sweetheart,” Mrs. Talbot says, smiling softly.

Liam dries the dishes as Mrs. Talbot washes them. She apologises for dinner again, but he shakes her off. It wasn’t her fault the situation devolved, somehow, into an argument between Brett and his dad.

“Is Andrew his ex?” Liam asks her.

She sighs and nods. “Yeah. We always felt Brett was too good for him, but we tried to be nice to him, include him in things. He was older than Brett by a few years, maybe four or so. Brett loved him even though he could be cruel, and there wasn’t much we could do about it.”

Liam nods along. “Is that why Mr. Talbot was testing me?”

“I suspect so. As if intelligence is a measure of compassion. He should know himself that it isn’t.” She sighs. “Graham’s quite intelligent, but he has the emotional range of a dessert spoon. As you may have noticed.”

Liam smiles. “It’s okay. He’s just looking out for Brett, right?”

“That’s right. They might not see eye to eye on anything, or understand where the other is coming from, but ever since Andrew happened to Brett, Graham’s been protective of him.”

Andrew happened to Brett. The way she phrases it makes it sound like Andrew was a cataclysmic event, not a person. Maybe he was.

“You have to understand, Liam,” Mrs. Talbot says. “It’s not because you’re male. He might not understand that part, but he doesn’t care. He would act like this with anyone Brett brought home. He goes about it entirely the wrong way, of course…”

“I know,” Liam says. “I figure if it was the gay thing he would’ve raised that at dinner too.”

She smiles. “You’re quite intelligent for your age.”

Liam blushes faintly. “I just pay attention, that’s all.”

“Well, sweetie, you’re a step ahead of most adults.” She smiles. “I can finish these. Go find Brett and cheer him up. He’s probably in his room.”

“Okay. Um, where’s that?”

“Top of the stairs, first door on your left, honey.”

Liam takes her directions and heads upstairs. It’s warmer because the heat is rising, and he rolls his sleeves up as he heads to the door and knocks hesitantly.

There’s no answer; Liam opens it a crack. Brett’s lying on the bed, headphones on, playing the PlayStation. He looks up when Liam enters and pulls the headset off abruptly.

“Sorry,” Liam whispers uncertainly.

Brett sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

“For - you can come in, Liam.”

Liam enters and closes the door behind him gently, looking around. It’s much like Brett’s bedroom in his apartment - books everywhere, scattered pens and pencils, high school memorabilia. All the camera parts are missing, though.

“For my dad,” he says. “And for how I acted, I-”

Liam shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.” He comes in and sits down on the edge of the bed hesitantly. “Andrew was your ex, right?”

“Yeah,” Brett sighs. “What’d Mom tell you?”

“That he wasn’t good enough for you and that he hurt you. Nothing I didn’t already know, except that he was older than you.”

Brett tilts his head. “You sounded so fucking smart at the dinner table. I’m proud of you. I wanna be better for you than he was for me.”

Liam smiles a little. “You already are.”

“Liam…”

“You don’t even care that I’m withdrawing from an antipsychotic drug,” Liam points out. “You know how many people would decide they aren’t dealing with that baggage and skip out? Plenty. I know they would.”

Brett smiles. He looks almost vulnerable. “Well, not me.”

“I know.”

There’s a pause. Liam lies back on the bed next to Brett, stares up at the ceiling; Brett’s got a skylight in here too, and the night is totally cloudless. Liam likes being able to see the stars.

“Your mom’s a great cook,” he says into the silence. “Is there dessert?”

Brett laughs.


	10. Ten - Innig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have a valid excuse that I haven't already used before lmao
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions of abuse, conversations about mental illness**
> 
> Anyway this chapter is a bit longer than usual for this fic so I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you for being so patient with me and for all your encouragement <3

**Chapter Ten - Innig**

Liam almost gets away with his weird behaviour at Brett’s place.

“Almost” being the operative word, here. Brett doesn’t mention anything on the way home, or even once they’re in the door. Liam’s just starting to think that he’s not going to when Brett kneels down in front of him.

Liam blinks; he’s sitting on the edge of Brett’s bed, about to take his glasses off. “Hi,” he says.

Brett smiles a little, puts his hands on Liam’s knees. “Hey. You okay?”

Liam nods. Most of the nervousness is gone, because he doesn’t have to be there anymore - but a sense of trepidation remains. He does have to go back, because it’s Brett’s family. It can’t be avoided forever.

“What happened?” Brett asks softly.

Liam shakes his head a little. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I just… felt nervous. Around your dad. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Liam, you weren’t nervous around my dad,” Brett says softly. “You were frightened. I know what you look like when you’re scared. And you were. Look, he’s kind of a hardass but he’s not gonna hurt you, okay? Or me.”

Liam believes Brett, deep down, but it’s hard to feel that belief when all he can sense, from Brett’s dad, is derision and coldness.

“Do you believe me?” Brett asks.

“Yeah,” Liam says softly. “I believe you.”

~*~

The next few days are a whirl of activity; Liam works and goes to class and studies, and between all of that and having to actually sleep, he and Brett barely get in a few texts a day.

He hangs out for Friday. Friday - he works in the morning, and Brett’s working till three or so, but after that, the entire weekend is open. He’s kind of surprised by just how much he misses Brett, and how visceral it is - and how almost uncomfortable it is that he’s come to like Brett and rely on him so much in such a short space of time.

He fervently hopes they’re together for the rest of their lives. Not because he’s head over heels in love, but because he doesn’t even want to begin to think how bad the heartbreak would be if they split up. Just the thought of it has his chest squeezing anxiously.

When he finishes work, it’s still an hour until Brett does. He hangs around and keeps Hayden company for a little while, then goes across the road to Walmart. Brett loves sour gummy worms, and Liam’s got a little extra money this week. He kind of wants to surprise Brett.

He finds a two-pound bag of sour gummy worms pretty quickly - he seems to be spending more and more time in the candy aisle lately - and uses the self-serve counter to check out. He’s juggling his phone, wallet, and store bag on the way out when someone calls his name.

He turns around. Noah’s jogging after him; Liam’s stomach flares with nerves. This is maybe the third time he’s run into Noah near his workplace.

“Hey,” Noah says, smiling.

“Hi,” Liam replies, checking his phone. Brett’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes or so; Liam can shake Noah in that time, probably.

“Finished work?” Noah asks, and Liam doesn’t miss the hopefulness in his voice. It’s part of the reason he feels so guilty for trying to shake Noah off, and part of the reason it takes him so long - it’s weird, but it’s not scary or anything, and maybe the guy just needs a friend.

“Yeah. Glad it’s the weekend.” Liam rocks a little; he feels awkward, which he used to be used to, but isn’t anymore - because he doesn’t feel awkward around the four people he sees most often, and they don’t care if he is anyway, which helps. In fact, they mostly seem to think it’s cute - and really, cute isn’t really a word that Liam wants attached to him as a descriptor, but he’ll take what he can get.

Noah nods. “You busy?” he asks, with that same inflection of hope in his voice.

“Brett’s picking me up in ten,” Liam says apologetically - and he’s not sure why he feels he has to be, but damn, he’s trying his best to be gentle.

Noah’s face falls flat, then hardens. “Brett again?”

“Noah, I dunno how to explain this… in a way I haven’t already… but he’s my boyfriend,” Liam says.

Noah nods jerkily. “When we started going out,” he says, “you kept pushing me off or away and refusing to come to my parents’ place. But you’re fine with him.”

“How the fuck would you know if I’m fine with him?” Liam asks heatedly.

“You said,” Noah says, “that being scared wasn’t a choice for you, and that’s how you are.”

Liam blinks. He did say that, but he doesn’t really appreciate something he said months ago being thrown back in his face by the same person who belittled him for it. “I’m not,” he says. “Not anymore anyway. As much. And Brett doesn’t care anyway.”

Noah snorts. “I didn’t either.”

“Yes you did,” Liam says tiredly. “Which you made very clear. Look, dude - I don’t know what to tell you. We went on a few dates and it didn’t work. Why don’t you get Grindr? Or Tinder? Or whatever the fuck else?”

Noah sighs. “I fucked up. I get it. I wish you’d given me another chance.”

Liam’s not a huge believer in second chances. “I told you then,” he says. “I couldn’t be what you were looking for. I’m probably still not. You said no hard feelings, which…”

He doesn’t finish. He’s not going to berate Noah for being hung up on him when Noah berated him for being half in, half out of the closet. He’d be doing exactly the same shit.

“Could we be friends?” Noah asks after a moment.

Liam bites his lip. “Look, Noah… we can talk, yeah? But only if you stop showing up to where I work. I know you don’t live around here; you told me that. And only if you stop talking shit about Brett, too.”

“Why do you care what I say about Brett?” Noah demands.

“Because I like him!” Liam splutters. “Kind of a lot, I-”

“Hey, Liam!”

He would recognise that voice anywhere; he turns around and, when he sees Brett striding towards him, feels any anger or coldness he may have been feeling melt out of him in an instant. Because he hasn’t seen Brett in days - four, to be exact - and seeing him now reminds him just how much he really, really likes this guy.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s not expecting Brett to wrap him up in a tight hug, but that’s exactly what happens, and a blanket of calm settles over Liam’s brain.

Brett steps back a little. “Hi, Noah,” he says warily.

“What’s up?” Noah asks flatly.

Brett - who seems to be in a better mood today than he was the last time they encountered Noah - merely shrugs, then looks to Liam. “You ready to go?” he asks, and his eyes are warm as his hand settles on Liam’s lower back.

Liam nods eagerly. He’s been waiting for this all week - thinking about it and anticipating it and wanting it so badly. It’s not even just the knowledge that at some point, they’re going to end up doing some sort of fucking - he just really likes being around Brett.

“Okay.” Brett’s still smiling. “I parked around the back of the music store.”

Liam nods, then turns. “Bye,” he says to Noah awkwardly.

“See ya,” is the despondent reply.

They leave the store; Liam feels like he’s bouncing. “How’d you know I’d be at Walmart?” he asks.

“You’re always at Walmart,” Brett says flippantly. “But I did check Starbucks first.”

Liam chuckles. “How was work?”

“Shit,” Brett says cheerfully. “Someone didn’t turn up. That’s okay though.” They’ve reached the car; Brett turns to him and leans down, murmuring, “I get to spend the whole weekend with you,” before kissing Liam softly.

Liam pushes up into the kiss, smiling, which makes it a little awkward. Brett doesn’t seem to mind, even as the Walmart bag gets wedged between them.

Brett pulls away and looks down. “What’s that?” he asks curiously.

Liam grins. “I got you something,” he says, handing it over.

Brett smiles as he opens the bag - and then the smile turns into a wide, open-mouthed, toothy grin. “Seriously?” he asks gleefully. “I mentioned liking these once!”

Liam shrugs, feeling a little shy. “I remembered.”

“You’re the best,” Brett says, pressing a kiss into his temple. “C'mon. Let’s get out of here. We have four days of not seeing each other to make up for. And…”

He holds up the bag of gummy worms. “I suppose I owe you a thank you gift,” he teases. “Which… given that Pete isn’t home until later tonight… you should probably open immediately.”

“Okay,” Liam says eagerly, and Brett laughs.

~*~

“Do you always make this much noise?” Brett teases.

Liam lifts his head weakly, then drops it back onto the pillow with a groan; he’s halfway through receiving his “gift” which, he’s worked out, is being slowly but surely reduced to a bundle of nerves and pleasure.

“I dunno,” he breathes. “Maybe I do.”

Brett nibbles on his hip. “You wanna try another position?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Roll onto your side.”

Liam feels empty the next second; Brett’s withdrawn his finger. He rolls onto his side and watches as Brett gets onto the bed behind him.

“Easy,” Brett murmurs into his neck, and then his finger slips back in.

When they’d come back and Brett had started taking Liam’s clothes off, this isn’t quite what he’d expected - he didn’t think Brett was going to finger him or anything. But when Brett sent him to the bathroom with instructions to clean up… he’d gotten the message.

The first minute or so was strange, until Brett found his prostate. Now, Liam’s whole lower body is tensed with pleasure, and his dick is hard and leaking precome steadily. Brett knows what he’s doing.

He lets Brett move him, now - position his top leg a little, and then, after a moment, he feels another finger poking hesitantly at his entrance. He breathes out as it breaches him.

“Doesn’t hurt?” Brett asks.

“No,” Liam groans, twisting to plant his face in one of Brett’s pillows. “I can kind of see why-”

Brett finds his prostate again; Liam’s sentence blurs into a noise of pleasure, and he feels his thighs shaking. Brett’s free hand is on his hip.

“What was that?” Brett asks innocently.

“Huh?”

“What were you gonna say?”

“Um…” Liam tries to think, but Brett’s making it really hard - that, and other things. He’s desperate to touch himself but Brett told him no and Liam’s not gonna analyse the fact that he kind of got off on being told to keep his hands to himself.

Brett squeezes his hip. “Yeah?” he prompts.

“I can kind of see why Pete doesn’t want us on the couch now,” Liam blurts, his words coasting on a single breath. “Oh my God, that feels amazing.”

Brett laughs a little. “Mm?”

“Yeah,” Liam groans, pushing his hips forward uselessly. Brett’s making some sort of scissoring motion with his fingers; Liam’s never even experimented before, not like this, and the sensation is totally new and completely mindblowing to him.

He tries to remember how he ended up here. He’d been fully aware of what Brett was going to do the moment he asked Liam, quietly, if he had any allergies to lube; still, Brett had double-checked (and triple checked) that he was okay with it.

Liam wriggles a little. “I really liked it when you were, um… ah,” he murmurs, planting his face into the bed.

He feels Brett smile against the back of his neck. “When I was what?”

“When I was on my back,” Liam says faintly. “You bit me a few times.”

“And where’d I bite you, Li?”

Liam bites his lip, closes his eyes, and sighs shakily; Brett’s gonna make him work for it, and Liam’s really, really enjoying it. “My hips,” he mumbles. “Thighs.”

“Which part of your thighs?” Brett’s free hand is ghosting down; Liam whimpers as Brett skirts his dick and grasps Liam’s top leg at the knee, gently tipping him until Liam’s half on his back, half on his side. His legs fall apart; Brett’s hand slides up between them, exploring the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

Liam holds his breath for what seems like hours, until Brett reaches a spot bare inches away from his dick, and then gasps, “There, right there.”

“Here?” Brett presses lightly, and Liam nods; a kiss is planted on his temple. “Hmm. You sure? There’s no marks or anything…”

“Then maybe you should get back down there and leave some,” Liam moans.

He realises just what’s come out of his mouth the second it leaves, and he opens his eyes to stare into Brett’s face. Brett’s mouth is open slightly, and his eyes are heated.

Liam opens his mouth to apologise, but in the next second, Brett’s pulling out of him and saying, “I never leave a job unfinished,” with such seriousness Liam almost giggles. Then he’s being rolled onto his back, and Brett’s shoving a pillow under his hips and ass and sliding his fingers back in.

Liam’s neck slackens, and he stares up at the ceiling. He’s not going to last much longer, especially given that Brett’s not only targeting his prostate in earnest now, but is also nibbling on his inner thighs - with just the right amount of pressure, too; not so hard it hurts, but a little more pressure than a tickle.

“How do you do that?” Liam mumbles weakly, reaching down to wind his fingers into Brett’s hair. “I didn’t even know I liked this.”

Brett shrugs, but he’s smirking smugly into the junction of Liam’s left thigh and hip. “I’m just that skilled,” he says.

“Sure,” Liam breathes. He didn’t even know he had a “right” pressure for being bitten, or that he’d like it at all, so it seems unfair that Brett’s found it so fast. Like a trial without the error part.

Brett sits up a little, quite suddenly; Liam keeps his hands where they are, with Brett’s soft, glossy hair wound around his fingertips. “You know,” Brett says, “your dick looks like it needs some attention.”

“You told me not to touch,” Liam mumbles, giving Brett a gentle retaliatory tug on his hair.

“I did say that, huh?” Brett asks. “I changed my mind. Go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Brett laughs.

“Are you gonna keep-”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Liam shudders - a full body movement that starts at the top of his head and ripples fervently down his spine, into his hands and fingers, and seeps into his toes. He lets go of Brett with his left hand and wraps it around his dick.

He whimpers the moment his skin makes contact; he hadn’t realised how desperate he was. “Brett,” he moans.

“Yeah,” Brett mumbles, a hot gust of breath on his hip. “I know.” He changes the angle of his fingers. “You gonna come?”

“Mmhm,” Liam says.

“What if I tell you not to?”

“I’ll break up with you,” Liam pants; his hand is moving faster. “I swear to God, Brett, if you tell me not to come I’m gonna break up with you.”

Brett laughs. “That desperate. Okay.”

He crooks his fingers, and he brushes Liam’s prostate with more force than before; Liam almost sees stars, the pleasure is so intense, and his eyes cross with it. Brett’s next bite - delivered, again, with more purpose and force than the others - lands on his hip, right over the bone, and sends a zap of almost-pain right to his core.

“Um,” Liam gasps, and then he’s coming - without realising he was going to, even - all over his stomach, his hips undulating desperately and his legs shaking.

Brett waits until Liam’s done, then resurfaces; Liam lets his hair go, marvelling the way Brett looks like he’s been thoroughly fucked too.

“Rate me,” Brett says.

Liam downright giggles. “Ten out of ten,” he says.

Brett frowns. “You gave me ten out of ten last time,” he complains.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Twelve out of ten. Willing to up that to thirteen if you don’t make me move and clean me up.”

“…Thirteen and a half.”

“Done.” Liam tips his head back to watch as Brett leaves. “You’re the best,” he calls.

“Stop,” Brett calls back. “You’re making me blush.”

Liam hears a tap running, and then Brett’s coming back to the bed, his hands clean and a wet washcloth in his grip. Liam smiles at him innocently.

“I mean it.”

He’s surprised to see a pink tint rising into Brett’s face. “I know you do,” he mumbles, and Liam grins as he watches the colour spread. “Now hold still while I clean you up.”

He does; Brett’s careful of how sensitive he still is. “You know,” Liam says, “if this is my reward for buying you sour gummy worms, I’m gonna do it way more often.”

Brett reaches over and grabs the bag of worms off his bedside table. “You don’t have to buy me gummy worms,” he says, eating a few and keeping a totally straight face. “I’d do it just for the gratification of how noisy you are. We’re never gonna be able to fuck while Pete’s here.”

“I could be quiet,” Liam protests, and Brett snorts. “I could!”

“You were a one-man orchestra from the moment I got your jeans off,” Brett says, raising an eyebrow.

Liam huffs sulkily; it’s true, but Brett doesn’t have to be so smug about it.

“Don’t be sad,” Brett advises. “Here.”

He’s picked an orange worm from the pack, and Liam smiles. Brett’s remembered that the orange ones are his favourite - or he doesn’t like them and he’s trying to get rid of them, but Liam’s gonna go with the first option.

He opens his mouth and takes the worm; the first few seconds aren’t bad, but after that, his eyes are watering and his tongue is screaming from the abuse. He scrunches his face up.

Brett bursts into laughter above him. “You’re such a weak bitch.”

“It hurts,” Liam moans. “I’m drooling.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” Brett says it fondly. “You’re okay.”

“How do you eat these with a straight face?” Liam demands. “Are your tastebuds dead?”

“I mean, probably, yeah.”

He lets Brett feed him gummy worms for a while - once the pain-salt is licked off them, they actually taste pretty good, and Brett seems to think it’s hilarious to watch him suffer. It’s only twenty minutes later that he gets up to go shower.

He falls asleep studying on Brett’s bed, later, spread out comfortably on his belly with a textbook to his right and a notebook to his left - he prefers handwriting his notes, just because the information seems to sink deeper into his brain that way.

He’s not sure what he dreams about, really, but he wakes up with a jolt and a gasp, disoriented, his hand jerking a line down the page and almost tearing through the paper.

“You okay?”

He looks around. Brett’s watching him from the desk - his camera is out. He raises it sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re cute when you’re sleeping. Usually.”

Liam swallows. “I’m fine.” He feels a little panicky - the dream had to have something to do with his father, and he knows that it isn’t a coincidence that it’s occurred a few nights before he’s due to see Brett’s family again. Or, more specifically, his father.

Brett eyes him carefully. “When’s your next therapy appointment?” he asks quietly.

Liam’s stomach lurches uncomfortably; Brett clearly knows something’s up, that it wasn’t a run of the mill nightmare. Apparently Liam’s not as good at hiding his damage as he thought; Brett’s guessed that his reaction to Brett’s father and the therapy have something to do with Liam’s past, but not what.

He’s not sure how to answer, so he climbs off the bed and heads to the bathroom, flicking the fan on. He blinks, wincing, when the bright heat lights sear his vision. He’s not even totally awake yet. He’s supposed to take his Risperdal soon - he’s guessing, anyway, based on the way the sun is drooping below the horizon.

“Yo, Liam.”

He turns around. It’s Pete; he must have gotten home a little while ago. Liam leans his back against the counter, grips it with both hands, smiles nervously.

“Hi, Pete.”

Pete looks at him for a moment. “You alright? You look spooked.”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Alright. Well, if I need to lecture Brett on appropriateness or anything-”

Brett. Fuck. Liam didn’t even answer his fucking question earlier; Brett must think he’s a total space cadet by now. He’s been forgetting things and stumbling over his words and been generally confused since tapering more, and Brett’s been unendingly patient with him, helping him fill in his sentences or guessing what he means until he gets it right. Liam’s really fucking grateful to have him.

“Liam?” Pete asks.

Liam looks up. Pete smiles as him kindly and gives his upper arm a light pat. “I kind of need to shower,” he says apologetically. “Unless you’re about to.”

“No.” Liam blinks. “No, that’s-”

Brett appears in the doorway. Pete looks at him, then at Liam, and says, “Alright. I don’t want to be the filler of this white boy sandwich, so-”

“You would love a threesome,” Brett says, without missing a beat. “But I’m not sharing him.”

Pete rolls his eyes. “You both lack the necessary parts to make that concept even remotely interesting,” he says flatly, and he leaves the room with another small smile at Liam and glare at Brett. He seems to realise something’s a little different.

Brett steps into the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “That was none of my business.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, it’s… fine.” He blinks. “Sorry. I just kind of forgot to answer.”

“Liam-”

“Tuesday,” he says. “It’s Tuesday.”

Brett smiles hesitantly, like he’s not sure if Liam really wanted to tell him. “What time?”

“Seven.”

Brett nods. “I can’t drop you off,” he says, “but I can come and pick you up if you want.”

Liam nods, and Brett’s smile loses the hesitancy and becomes real. “Cool,” he says. “Okay. Hey, you alright? Whatever you were dreaming about didn’t seem all that nice.”

“I don’t remember what it was,” Liam admits, shaking his head. “It’s alright. Probably something to do with tapering my doses anyway.” And other, unrelated things, but he won’t mention that, because Brett’s already looking at him like he knows more than he’s letting on.

Brett nods, enters, and puts his hands on Liam’s waist. He smiles when Liam relaxes underneath him - it’s not something Liam has to force himself to do, either; it just happens, like he’s life’s marionette and Brett’s the guy who’s cut his strings.

“Thanks for telling me,” Brett says. “I wasn’t sure - I thought I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll tell you,” Liam says. “If you do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Brett leans forward and kisses his forehead gently.

“You know,” Pete’s voice says, “not that this isn’t a beautiful scene or anything, and it’s nice to see that you’re both still wearing all your clothes, but you guys can make out anywhere, and we only have one shower.”

They both laugh, a little awkwardly - even Brett, Liam realises. “Sorry,” he says to Pete, taking a step back from Liam and allowing him to straighten up. “We’ll get out of here.”

Liam follows Brett out of the bathroom, staring at his back. Brett doesn’t care he goes to therapy, and apparently isn’t going to start spouting holistic bullshit at him either - something Liam’s heard more than enough of from people who think he’s just got a bad temper - and Liam really, really wants to tell Brett about his dad. So far, Brett hasn’t shied away from anything he’s said, no matter how fucked up it might be, and hasn’t even hinted that the I.E.D will be an issue for him. He can trust Brett.

The words won’t come out, though. They sit on the edge of his tongue and make him weird all night, but Liam doesn’t know where to start or how. At the end of the day, he’s been told it wasn’t his fault about a thousand times, and he even believes that now, when he didn’t used to. But he still doesn’t really understand why; why his dad turned to alcohol in the first place, why he even started hitting Liam and his mom, why he didn’t seek help. Why he didn’t care enough about them to put them before the booze, or how he couldn’t care enough about them. He’s never understood that. Maybe he never will.

Brett seems to notice his shift in mood; he always does, even when Liam doesn’t realise it’s happening. He wonders vaguely if he’s emotional because of having his drug tapered, but he isn’t sure. He’s never had it tapered before now.

“Li?”

He looks up. Brett gives him a small smile.

“You okay?”

Liam nods silently. Nothing’s particularly wrong, he’s just not all that alright. Which feels confusing and dumb to him, and he doesn’t know how to go about explaining without getting tongue-tied, so he just lies instead.

Still, he’s worked up, and it’s obvious that he’s worked up; he knows logically that he’s making it incredibly obvious, what with fidgeting and switching between homework tasks without making any progress on any of them, and staring blankly at the page of his textbook for more than five minutes, his eyes sliding uncomprehendingly across the same paragraph over and over again. But even knowing he’s doing it, he can’t seem to stop - he’s trapped in a mire of confusion, feels like he’s half asleep or underwater.

Brett’s desk chair moves; Liam looks up to see him coming to kneel down beside the bed, which puts him at eye height with Liam. “You okay?” he asks again, slowly, except his tone is saying _I know you’re not._

Liam licks his lips. “I…” _Don’t want to lie to you anymore_ , he realises.

“Liam,” Brett murmurs. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong, okay? You don’t…” He rubs his face. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me there’s nothing wrong, when there clearly is, to get me to leave you alone.”

_I don’t want you to leave me alone_ , Liam thinks. _That’s not my problem at all._

“If there’s something wrong but you don’t feel like talking about it,” Brett says softly, “tell me you don’t want to tell me. But never feel like you have to lie to me about it.”

But that’s not the problem either. He does want to tell Brett. It’s that he doesn’t know how. How does he come out and say to Brett _hey, my dad used to belt me up, and it’s left a lot more scars than I thought it did, and I’m only just realising how many now?_

He swallows down a sob, shivers, looks away. Brett puts a hand on his shoulder and leaves it there, letting his thumb stroke Liam’s skin gently.

“I want to tell you,” he says, his voice cracking a little. Brett looks surprised at the admission, like he wasn’t expecting Liam to talk, let alone say that. “I just don’t know how.”

“Okay.” Brett still looks kind of shocked. “Well… whenever you want. Doesn’t have to be now. I’m listening.”

Liam nods.

~*~

Brett’s really careful with him the next day.

It takes Liam until lunch to notice it, but Brett’s being really gentle with him, like he thinks maybe he’s done something wrong. Liam’s not sure how to tell him he hasn’t without calling attention to the fact that he’s a mopey little shit, and he doesn’t want Brett to stop, really, so he doesn’t bring it up.

They head out to the lake again - this time with a loaf of bread - and Liam feeds the ducks, which cheers him up immensely. Brett takes some photos. When it comes over cloudy, he gives Liam a hoodie from the trunk of his car, which Liam is pretty much drowning in but vows to somehow steal.

Still, even with feeding the ducks and wearing Brett’s hoodie and just generally being okay, despite everything, Liam’s feeling confused and a little anxious and even a little afraid. He needs to tell Brett about his dad. He knows that. And as soon as the distraction of the ducks and the lake and the scenery is gone, and they’re back in the car, that hits him full force.

Brett doesn’t try distracting him again; they head to the grocery store to get ingredients for dinner - Brett’s still trying to teach Liam how to cook, and they’re both quickly learning that Liam is a bit crap at cooking - and then home again. Brett doesn’t make him talk or anything. Liam knows he’s keeping an eye on him, though, obviously noticing that this is a step up from Liam’s regular level of anxiety.

They’re making dinner when the anxiety sort of bubbles over and starts to fizz messily on the surface of Liam’s life; Brett’s given him the job of cutting the onions, and Brett himself is moving around the kitchen and talking. Liam feels like he’s six feet underwater and can’t really hear anything at all - not like he’s drowning, but like he’s trapped beneath the surface, and Brett’s voice is distorted by a rush of water.

“My dad,” Liam says, out of the blue - interrupting Brett’s train of speech.

Brett turns to him. “Huh?”

Liam swallows; he slices down on the onion, feels a flash of pain in his finger, and then there’s blood flowing freely from the cut across it. He hisses in surprise.

“Shit,” Brett says, rushing for a paper towel. “Here, here-” He wraps Liam’s finger in it carefully, wincing. “Shit. Is it bleeding really badly?”

“I don’t think so,” Liam says shakily. “Sorry.”

“Jesus, Liam, don’t worry,” Brett says, smiling a little. “We all do stuff like that. It’s okay. How’s your finger?”

Liam peels back the paper towel; there’s still blood seeping out of his finger, but the cut’s fairly superficial. “It’ll be fine,” he says.

Brett takes his hand and inspects the cut carefully. “Jeez, you cut deep,” he murmurs. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding we should probably get it looked at.” He covers Liam’s finger back up with the paper towel, more carefully this time. Liam watches him do it, feeling kind of strung out and miserable.

“My dad used to beat me up,” he says.

Brett’s head snaps up - his mouth is open in shock. “He _what?”_

“He used to beat me up.” Liam cradles his hand. “When I was a kid. Didn’t stop until I was eleven or twelve. That’s what I was trying to tell you before. I’ve been… trying to tell you for a while, actually.”

Brett’s hands land on his biceps. “Did… you feel like you couldn’t?” he asks softly.

“No.” Liam blinks; his eyes feel hot. “No, I - I _wanted_ to. I really did. I just… didn’t know how.” Liam shakes his head. “My psychiatrist thinks it’s probably one of the reasons I have IED, and - I dunno, it’s just, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and…”

Brett pulls him into a hug, holding Liam close around his waist and shoulders. Liam clings to him with one hand, holding his bloody finger and the paper towels away from Brett’s t-shirt.

They stand there like that for a while. Liam’s eyes are burning and blurry, but he keeps them resolutely open and directed at the ceiling so the tears in them won’t start rolling down his face. He’s not into crying. He doesn’t believe it’s cathartic in any sense and he’d rather not give it the chance to be.

Brett pulls away from him slowly. “Let me see your finger,” he murmurs.

Liam holds it out, staring at some point next to Brett’s shoulder. The cut’s stopped bleeding; he can feel it.

“Liam,” Brett says. “Hey. Look at me.”

He does, reluctantly. Brett touches his face gently.

“Has anyone told you it’s okay to cry?” he asks. “That you’re allowed to be upset over it?”

Liam feels the breath leaves his lungs in a whoosh; he closes his eyes and shakes his head, because really, nobody has, not in those words. The psychiatrist has told him it’s alright to grieve, to mourn, as if he’s lost something or someone, but nobody’s ever told him it’s okay to cry - that it’s okay to still be hurting.

Brett’s other hand touches his shoulder. The moment it does, Liam feels the dam break - his body gives way to a chest-cracking sob, and he folds into Brett’s arms easily when he’s tugged to rest against his chest.

“It’s weird,” Brett murmurs, and Liam tunes into his voice like it’s a lifeline. “People will say all sorts of shit to try and calm you down… but nobody ever tells you it’s just okay to cry and have a breakdown. Like… no one. It’s like they think once you’ve admitted to it, it’s as easy as just… dealing with it. But it’s not really. You admit to it and then you sort of somehow accept it - like, accept that someone you loved did something exceptionally awful to you… and then you have to somehow find it in yourself to move past that. And then, you know, you’ve lived with it for so long that it’s become a facet of your personality, and suddenly it’s just… gone. One of your identifying attributes is just gone and you’ve got this big empty spot left from where you used to think about it and agonise over it, and now you don’t. So then what do you fill the space with?”

Liam clutches Brett’s shirt desperately with his good hand. Brett gets it. Liam would never be able to put it into words, not like that. But Brett gets it, and his voice is quiet and soothing in the whiteness of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Brett says. “I’m really sorry he hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Liam whispers wetly.

“It’s not okay. Don’t give him that. It wasn’t okay.”

Liam nods, breathing a heavy, painful sigh against Brett’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he breathes.

Brett’s arms tighten around him. “Does anyone else know?”

“Hayden and Mason. No one else. You’re sort of the first I’ve told. They know, but… I never told them. They just sort of… found out when I - when I ended up in hospital.”

“Thank you. For trusting me.”

_How could I not?_ Liam wonders, leaning up on his tiptoes so he can get closer. He feels Brett smile against the side of his face and pull him up a little more.

“We should finish dinner,” Liam says, pulling away and sniffling a little. He starts mopping at his eyes with his hands self-consciously; having Brett see him cry wasn’t on his bucket list.

“Okay,” Brett agrees. “But I’m cutting the onion.”

Liam laughs - it sounds kind of like a sob - and says, “Great, then we’ll both be crying.”

“We’re gonna match,” Brett coos, leaning down and kissing Liam’s cheek. “I’ve always wanted to match with my boyfriend.” He licks his lips. “Mm, you’re nice and salty.”

Liam gives him a light shove, sniffing again. “You’re gross. And salty is my permanent state of existence.”

“That is absolutely not true. Unless you’re at work. You seem pretty salty at work.”

“You would be too if your boss was as vastly incompetent, disorganised and unreliable as mine.”

Brett’s eyebrows crease. “You work at Leaf as well?”

Liam chokes on another laugh. “Stop. I sound like a dying seal.”

“But I’m making you laugh, and that’s good.” Brett’s face softens a little; he reaches over and grabs some tissues for Liam’s face. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Liam mops at his eyes, feels Brett take his hand and wrist, and lets him. He’s got nothing else to hide anymore, really.

“Looks like it’s stopped bleeding. I’m gonna get you a bandage or something.”

Liam nods, turning to look as Brett leaves the room. Once he’s gone, he runs his hand under water to clean up the blood and sinks into one of the barstools, still feeling kind of shaky and emotional. He’s never really told anyone before. And shit, he didn’t even mention the alcohol, which is the whole reason he wanted to bring it up, and-

“Here,” Brett says, entering the room with a bandage roll. “Don’t think a bandaid will cover it.”

Liam holds out his hand, letting Brett bandage it gently. Then he says, “He was an alcoholic.”

Brett looks up at him. “That’s why you’re funny about the drinking, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s okay. I kinda figured it was something like that.” Brett finishes with his finger. “Look, you’re healed. You’ll be good in no time.”

Liam nods. “I was supposed to tell you,” he says. “Before I met your family. That’s why I acted so weird around your dad. I tried not to.”

Brett nods. “I’m just glad you told me now,” he says softly. “If you… need anything from me, specifically…”

Liam tries to smile. “Thanks. I know. Thank you.”

Brett nods. “Hungry?” he asks softly.

“Starving,” Liam admits - and he is, really, now that the knot in his stomach has loosened up and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Okay.” Brett smiles. “Let’s finish dinner.”

~*~

“Tired, huh?”

Liam lifts his head; it’s been pillowed on Brett’s chest and shoulder for the last hour as they flick mindlessly through TV channels. He hasn’t realised until now - until Brett’s asked - but he is tired. Still feeling kind of weird about his crying jag before, too.

“Yeah,” he admits. Brett’s looking down at him tenderly; he presses a kiss into Liam’s hair. Liam doesn’t usually do affection, at least not like that, but it makes him feel warm and he shuffles a little closer.

“I’m glad you told me,” Brett murmurs. “I knew there was… something, but-”

“You knew?” Liam asks, panicking a little.

“Hey, relax, alright?” Brett says gently. “You didn’t make it obvious or anything. But… I dunno, you acted really differently to a lot of people. Like you were sometimes afraid of being touched, or like you didn’t want to talk because you were scared of being misunderstood. I thought you were just shy, but after we were at my parents’ place, and I saw how you reacted to my dad… I knew something was up then.”

Liam fidgets, picking at the edges of his cuticles and looking away. He knows he’s got hang-ups about middle-aged white men. Especially when they’re not friendly. He didn’t think it showed so bad. “I’m in therapy for it,” he says awkwardly. “It’s not… it doesn’t…”

“Does therapy help?” Brett asks.

“Yeah. It helps a lot.” He’s not lying there; his psychiatrist has spent the better part of the last three or four months unravelling all his issues, working with his old psychiatrist in order to do so. It really does help, to have a trained professional tell him there’s nothing wrong with him.

“Good,” Brett says simply. “I’m glad.”

“You don’t care I’m seeing - seeing a psychiatrist or anything?” Liam mumbles. He’s told Brett that before, in reference to his I.E.D medication, but never in relation to his dad.

“No. If it helps you cope and move past it, who the fuck is anyone else to judge? Do you feel weird about it?”

“I don’t usually tell people,” Liam admits. “Hayden and Mason are the only ones here that know. I go on Tuesday nights after class. I just tell everyone I have boxing. I just thought… well, you deserved to know. Full disclosure and all that.”

Brett smiles. “Thanks for telling me.”

Liam leans his head back where it was; he still feels really tired, like he needs to sleep for a while. “Thanks for not thinking I’m broken,” he yawns. “Hayden said you wouldn’t.”

“Hayden said that? I’m honoured.” Brett looks down at him. “We should get some sleep,” he says kindly.

“Yeah. Okay.”

~*~

Therapy on Tuesday goes well.

Well, it usually does, because it’s stopped being as scary for him, but today in particular goes well. He gets a prescription for Fluoxetine, which is supposed to help with the withdrawal effects of the Risperdal, too. Eventually he’ll be off it, hopefully with the result of having a drug that doesn’t make him exhausted.

His therapist’s office is closer to the city, but on a residential street, and it looks like a house from the outside. He finishes early, and so he goes to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy just down the road to fill his Fluoxetine prescription. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s actually cheaper than his Risperdal - which his parents are still paying for. But the Fluoxetine - he can probably afford this on his own.

He’s eating some jellybeans and sitting on the low wall outside his therapist’s office when Brett’s car pulls up. Liam’s glad to get out of the wind, even more glad that Brett’s got the heating on.

“Hey,” Brett says when he gets in. “What’s that?”

“Jellybeans,” Liam says, confused. “Want some?”

“Not those,” Brett chuckles. “That.”

“Oh.” Liam holds his paper pharmacy bag up. “Fluoxetine.”

Brett winces. “How much?”

“It’s actually really cheap compared to my Risperdal,” Liam admits. “Like… no drug is cheap but this one’s okay.”

Brett nods; he seems a little nervous. “How, um,” he asks, indicating to pull into the lane. “How was therapy?”

Liam gets it, suddenly - Brett was obviously expecting him to be a wreck tonight, and Liam can’t say he blames the guy - he’s spent the whole week in varying states of confusion, anxiousness, and exhaustion, complete with his confession about his dad and spending the better part of a day and night crying and feeling on edge about it.

“It was good,” he says, trying to sound upbeat in the hopes that Brett will realise he’s actually pretty okay for once - Brett’s nervous, that much is obvious, and a bit at a loss for what to say to him too, probably. He gets it. Hayden and Mason have both been the same way. He doesn’t begrudge anyone for not always knowing what to say to him. He never knows what to say to anyone.

“Yeah?” Brett asks.

“Yeah. It was good. Which for me means I didn’t cry or lose my shit because I didn’t need to, and we covered some stuff about my dad.”

Brett smiles a little. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. I um, I told him about you, too. And that I’d told you what happened.”

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

“That it’s progress.”

Brett smiles wider. “Making progress, huh? That’s great.”

“Yeah. Um, thanks for picking me up. Must be weird for you.”

Brett shakes his head. “No different to picking you up from boxing or the doctor’s,” he says. “You need therapy? I’ll come and get you from therapy. Just so long as you know I’m here, you know?”

Liam’s smile wobbles when he eventually gets it on his face. “You’re way too good to me.”

Brett shakes his head again; his hair is getting a little longer, and Liam really wants to run his hands through it. “You didn’t leave when I told you about my mom,” he says. “Or when I was acting like the world’s worst boyfriend when you were sick and not answering my phone. Loads of people would have just said, "well fuck that guy!” and moved on. You didn’t. And I don’t think it’s because you’re whipped, either, even though you totally are. I think… I want to think, anyway - that you knew something was wrong. That you were giving me the benefit of the doubt.“

Liam thinks about that for a long moment. He did know it was out of character. He also did assume it was something to do with him, but… he was perfectly willing to hear Brett out. Wanted to, even.

"I was,” he says simply.

“There you go. You having I.E.D… it’s almost the same as if you had asthma, Liam. It’s just something that’s there, that’s a part of you, that we can work on together. If you want me to, that is.”

“I want you to.”

“And you haven’t had an outburst in ages, right?”

“Right.”

“See? The only thing I care about is that you know I’m not gonna hurt you or anything. Kind of wanna find your dad and rough him up a bit, but…”

Liam chuckles a little. “Yeah. Thanks. He’s in prison though. Unrelated charges I’m pretty sure. But I don’t keep up with it. It’s bad for me.”

Brett nods thoughtfully.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Liam says. “Kind of out of the way.”

“It’s cold out.” They pull up at a red light; Brett turns to look at him, and his eyes are soft. “I don’t want you to get sick again.”

Liam leans over the centre console and kisses Brett gently, resolving that when they get back, he’s going to take it further.

He’s got his guitar with him because he went straight after work; before he can take it, Brett’s grabbing it and carrying it upstairs. Liam follows, wanting to tell Brett he can carry it, and also recognising that Brett’s not doing it because he thinks Liam can’t. He just wants to help, and that feels nice.

Brett unlocks the door, steps inside, and puts Liam’s guitar down before kicking his shoes off. Liam dumps his bag and looks around. His heart is pounding for whatever reason, and he feels hot all over.

“Is Pete home?”

“No, he’s working. Why’s-”

Liam steps closer and leans up to pull Brett into a kiss. This is decidedly more heated than any of the others they’ve had; he’s trying to get as close as he can, press in, have Brett reciprocate. And he does; he’s pulling Liam closer by his waist and tracing the seam of Liam’s lips with his tongue, waiting until Liam opens his mouth with a small moan to dip inside.

Liam’s dick twitches urgently in his jeans; before he can respond to it, Brett reaches down and cups him firmly, and Liam fucking melts - goes lax against Brett’s body, trusting him totally to keep him on his feet.

“What was that for?” Brett murmurs huskily.

“I wanna go further,” Liam whispers back. “Please.”

“How far?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

Brett’s hand slides up to his ribcage; Liam shivers underneath him, almost exhilarated by how helpless he feels. He knows Brett will stop if Liam tells him to, and that just makes him want to give up control completely.

“Do you know what you want?” Brett asks softly.

“Anything,” Liam whispers again, beginning to back Brett towards his bedroom. “Anything you want.”

Brett’s fingers hook into the hem of his shirt, and Liam raises his arms, lets Brett strip it off him. The night air is cold, but he’s back to feeling like a furnace - back to burning up and feeling hot and lightheaded and woozy with the need to be closer.

“I like it when you’re on top,” Brett murmurs, and Liam pushes him back onto the bed and climbs on top of him, sitting with his legs on either side of Brett’s waist, and he even feels confident about it - confident with the way Brett loses his breath and stares up at him and wets his lips, his arms relaxed against the bed like he’s not sure what’s going on.

“I haven’t let anyone do this in a while,” Brett whispers, and he sounds uncertain - a little afraid. Liam hesitates, because it’s clearly a loaded statement, and Brett’s clearly saying it with the intention of conveying something else, but Liam’s not quite sure what that is.

“Want me to get off?” he asks.

“No.”

Liam nods. “Want me to go slow?”

Brett nods this time, wordlessly, and Liam smiles. Slow he can do.

He leans down, feels Brett’s hands on his waist, pays special attention to them - if Brett wants him off, or closer, or to switch roles, his hands will give him away before anything else. And yeah, Liam mightn’t know why this hasn’t cropped up before - but something’s clearly different, and he wants to make sure Brett’s alright.

Brett’s hands tighten, and Liam smiles a little as he’s flipped over. Brett settles between his legs slowly, looking apprehensive.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks.

“Uh,” Brett says softly. “Do you mind if we just… I dunno. I know you said you wanted to go further, but I, um…”

“We can just lie here if you want,” Liam says. “I mean, you aren’t going anywhere, right? We can go further later.”

Brett smiles and stretches out next to him. “You’re kind of the best thing ever.”

Liam feels a blush creeping up his face. “I’m not.”

“Yeah you are.”

They watch movies and eat junk food for most of the night, only stopping to play some video games. Liam’s not too worried about studying, but he thinks maybe Brett should pick up a book or two. He hasn’t seen the guy study in a long time.

Brett falls asleep before him. Liam lies awake, thinking about how strange it was that Brett pulled out of what was probably gonna be mutual orgasms.

He rolls onto his belly and looks at Brett’s face. It’s not like they haven’t sort-of fucked before; Brett’s been strange the last few days, and Liam, for once, doesn’t think it has anything to do with him. Unless Brett’s getting very belated cold feet about Liam’s issues, but…

But he doesn’t think that’s likely. He wonders if it has something to do with Brett’s ex, reminds himself to ask. He’s not really sure how to go about it, but he figures it’s something he should probably know.

His stomach turns a little. _Did Andrew hurt him?_ He wonders to himself. _Is that why he looked nervous when I was on top of him?_

He’s going to drive himself crazy with thinking about it; he yawns and settles down, relishing in the warmth of Brett’s body next to his.

He presses a kiss into Brett’s bicep softly, still looking at his face, then shifts closer. He’s got work tomorrow, and the alarm clock on Brett’s bedside table is showing three digits instead of four; he needs to sleep.

“Night,” he whispers to Brett.

~*~

Work the next day is terrible; Brett drives him off, and that’s about the only thing to be grateful for. He’s so tired he feels like his eyeballs are pulsing with it, a sharp wam-wam-wam right behind his retinas.

The shop bell rings sometime past two; he looks up and sees a blur of movement near the door, someone moving quickly and nervously inside and looking around.

Liam squints. “Hey,” he calls.

The guy turns around, and Liam’s suspicions are confirmed; it’s Corey, who Mason has had a crush on for the last, God, Liam doesn’t even know how long.

“Corey?” he asks.

Corey jumps; he looks scared. Liam tries to smile gently; he’s usually the one being soothed, not doing the soothing, so he’s not sure how effective it is, but he tries.

“Yeah?” he asks nervously.

Liam steps down from his stepladder; Corey seems nervous about something. Or maybe he’s just nervous in general - Liam would absolutely understand that. “I’m Mason’s roommate,” he explains. “Liam.”

“Oh.” Corey relaxes a little. “Oh, okay. So I’m in the right place?”

“I suppose?” Liam blinks. “Mase isn’t here right now.”

“Oh.”

Liam feels bad for the guy; he still looks strung out. “You want me to call him?” he asks. “I bet he’d come down here.”

Corey shakes his head quickly. “I uh - Mason talks about you a lot,” he says quickly. “And Brett.”

“You know Brett?”

“Yeah. He comes into the shop. He buys his lacrosse stuff from us. I give him discounts because he’s nice to me.”

Liam smiles. Brett’s nice to everyone, and it’s kind of cool to see that be reciprocated in some way. “He’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah. Uh - I was wondering. You… weren’t out before you got with him, right?”

“Not really,” Liam says confusedly. “Sort of. But not really. Was still pretty intimidated by the whole thing. Why?”

Corey rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I like Mason,” he says quickly. “I really like him. But I’m not out either, and I’m… too scared to go through with it.”

Liam nods. “That’s okay,” he says.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s okay to be scared. I was. Mason won’t judge you for that.”

“How did you get over it?”

Liam thinks about that. He can’t pinpoint any moment he did, exactly - it just felt easier to cope with once Brett was on his side, and Brett was solid when Liam couldn’t be, believed in him and that he would end up okay eventually, and that helped.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just… maybe I still am? It’s just easier. Even if only a few people know.”

Corey nods. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Liam smiles. “You want me to call Mason?”

“Yes please,” Corey sighs.

Liam takes his phone out and heads up behind the counter - and the only thing he can think is that Mason’s projected plan for wooing Corey actually fucking worked.

~*~

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

They’re going to Brett’s family’s place again tonight. Liam nods; he’s nervous, but at least this time around Brett understands exactly where he’s coming from.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s your family.” It’s not like he’s going to be able to avoid it; he’s already decided that he’s here to stay. With that comes the realisation that he’s going to have to find some workable solution to Brett’s dad.

“Alright,” Brett murmurs. “Well, let me know if you wanna get out of there.”

Liam wonders how, exactly, he’s supposed to do that when they’re going to be surrounded by Brett’s family, but he nods anyway.

The moment they step in the door, there’s commotion; Samson runs to Liam, obviously remembering that Liam spent a lot of his time feeding or petting him the last time he was here, and Lori runs down the stairs - hugs Brett, then tells Liam she’s been practicing guitar. Liam’s not used to this much noise, at least not in a family setting, but he kind of likes it.

“Where’s Mom, Lor?” Brett asks.

Lori blinks. “She’s in her bathroom,” she says.

Brett nods, gives Liam’s lower back a quick stroke - Liam’s slowly learned that that’s Brett’s signal for leaving - and heads upstairs. Lori worries at her lip.

“Hey,” Liam says, trying to get her attention. “Where’s Nate?”

Brett’s gone for a while. Liam sits on the living room floor with Lori and Nate - Mr. Talbot isn’t home yet. He’s worried about Brett’s mom, and he can tell Lori is too - but he tries to distract her, and he likes holding Brett’s little brother.

Liam’s really glad that Lori’s talkative, because he’s not really sure what to say to a twelve year old or a three year old that they can possibly relate to. Still, with her dad not in the room, Lori’s bubbly, and she quizzes Liam on every subject he can think of and then some - does he have siblings? How old is he? How long has he played guitar for? When did he meet Brett? The list is endless, but Liam doesn’t mind answering her questions.

“Hi, honey!”

He twists his spine around; Mrs. Talbot’s walking into the room, Brett behind her. She looks pale, and even though her smile reaches her eyes, she seems tired. She’s not as bubbly as she was the first time he came around.

He stands up. “Hi, Mrs. Talbot,” he says, smiling as she folds him into a hug. He really likes how affectionate this entire family is - well, save Brett’s dad, of course.

Mrs. Talbot’s shaking. He meets Brett’s eyes over her shoulder - Brett’s clearly distressed about something, and when their eyes lock, he mouths, “chemo,” at Liam.

Liam nods a little, then steps back. “It’s nice to see you again,” he says, smiling.

She pats his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Liam shrugs, smiles impishly, and Mrs. Talbot laughs. “Mom raised me right,” he says.

“She certainly did. I’d love to meet her someday, honey.”

“I’ll tell her to come up,” Liam says. “My aunt lives near here. I bet they could stay a while and come visit, maybe.”

Mrs. Talbot practically glows at that; Brett looks relieved and touched. Liam feels like he’s missing something. Meeting his parents can’t be so significant that it has Brett looking like he’d like to marry Liam on the spot.

He feels a tug on his jeans; Nate’s tottered up against him and is tugging on his jeans with one hand, the other stretching up. “Up,” he says.

“Alright.” Liam bends down and picks him up. “Better?”

“I like being tall,” Nate says proudly. Some sentences he knows and can articulate well - others, he’s not so good at. Liam doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience with toddlers so he’s not sure if that’s normal or not, but he doesn’t miss Brett sniggering at Nate’s statement. He glares.

“I’m tall to him,” he hisses.

“Yeah, but the irony is you’re still shorter than everyone else,” Brett chuckles, then kisses his head to diffuse the look of outrage on Liam’s face. “Hey, Nate!”

Nate snuggles closer to Liam, wraps his arms around Liam’s neck - his chubby little hands grip the spot near Liam’s shoulder, tiny, blunt fingernails digging into his skin. Liam’s amazed that people can ever be this tiny and helpless.

“Relax, buddy,” Brett says, ruffling Nate’s hair. “You wanna hang around with Liam, I won’t stop you.”

“I like Liam,” Nate mumbles into Liam’s neck.

Liam’s surprised to feel his heart swell up with affection. He even kisses Nate’s head - he still smells and looks like a baby, warm and soft and sweet and a little sticky. Liam didn’t even realise he liked kids before now.

By the time Mr. Talbot gets home, Liam’s already decided he’s not going to get bullied around tonight; his resolve is tightly in place when he shakes Mr. Talbot’s hand and looks him in the eye. He’s still kind of nervous, a little scared - but he’s not going to let it show this time.

Now that he isn’t as focussed on preventing an imminent panic attack, he notices that Brett and Lori go quiet with Mr. Talbot around - even Nate curls closer to Liam’s chest and holds the neck of his shirt tightly.

“Nice to see you again, Liam,” Mr. Talbot says.

Liam stands up straight - well, as straight as he can with an anxious three-year-old trying to climb inside his sweatshirt with him. “Likewise,” he says.

If Mr. Talbot is surprised by his change in demeanour, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he goes upstairs. Mrs. Talbot follows him - slowly.

Lori looks to Brett. “Is Mom okay?” she asks hesitantly.

“She’s alright,” Brett reassures her, though he doesn’t look particularly convinced. “She’s just tired.”

“She’s been upstairs all day,” Lori says. “I made her tea.”

Liam doesn’t know if he can listen to them talk about their mom like this, knowing what he does about the cancer - about its malignancy and the way it’s multiplying inside her, about the almost inevitability of her death. Six percent. Five years. Six percent over five years. Two hundred thousand out of two million.

Nate gives a hitching, warning breath, like he’s going to start crying any minute now. Liam heaves him up closer - he’s learned to respond to Nate’s unclear speech with enthusiasm, no matter what he might be saying, but he doesn’t know what to do with a crying kid.

To his surprise, Nate settles against him quietly, sniffling, his arms around Liam’s neck. Liam holds him tight, rubs his back, and is quietly amazed when he notices Nate drifting off into sleep.

Brett smiles at him. “You’re great with him,” he whispers.

Liam blushes. “Thanks.”

They put Nate down for bed soon after, and when they’re back, dinner is out on the table. Liam sits down next to Lori, who beams.

Dinner is a relatively quiet affair. Lori finishes first and asks to be excused; once she’s left the table, Mr. Talbot clears his throat.

“So, Liam,” he says, and Liam jumps - he’s a little nervous about being addressed right off the bat, with no preamble. “What are you studying right now?”

Liam licks his lips. It’s at topic that hits close to home, really. “The treatment of people with mental illness,” he says. “In terms of the prison system, that is. We’re looking at the difference between outright punishment for disruptive or aggressive behaviour caused by mental illness, or whether rehabilitation is more effective.”

“That sounds interesting,” Mrs. Talbot says cheerfully. “And what are you finding?”

“That punishment for genuine symptoms of mental illness is completely ineffective, because the sufferers aren’t choosing to lash out,” Liam says. “So there needs to be some sort of balance between justice and rectifying the crime and rehabilitation.”

Mr. Talbot takes a sip of his water. “So you believe we should just let them roam free?” he asks.

“Who’s them?” Liam asks calmly. “And that’s not what I said. I said there needs to be a happy medium instead of punishing people who are already sick by making them sicker.”

“Most of them are totally addled by drugs and will never find their way back to normal functionality,” Mr. Talbot says dismissively. “And, quite frankly, I don’t go to work every day to pay for the rehabilitation of criminals.”

Liam’s temper flares abruptly. “You do know that rehabilitation actually costs less than prison, right?” he asks. “As in, two hundred dollars a day difference per prisoner. And rehabilitation is more effective. They’ve proven that in Sweden already-”

“And what about dangerous criminals?” Mr. Talbot demands. “Rapists, and murderers-”

“Aren’t the same as people who are suffering from schizophrenia or any other mental illness you undoubtedly associate with violence,” Liam snaps.

“You seem personally affected by this topic,” Mr. Talbot says bluntly.

“I _am_ ,” Liam snaps back. “I have a mental illness.”

He didn’t mean to admit that - not here, definitely not now, and not to Mr. Talbot, who he’s pretty sure he fucking despises by now. But the confession hangs in the air defiantly, daring someone to make something of it.

Mr. Talbot looks at Brett. “I told you this was a bad idea,” he says, and Brett shrinks impossibly under his gaze, small and timid like a frightened animal.

Liam puts his cutlery down. “What have you got against me?” he asks softly.

“Alright, Liam, I’m going to be straight with you,” Mr. Talbot says - Liam realises, hearing his name on the man’s tongue, that this is the first night he’s ever heard it out of Mr. Talbot’s mouth. “You’re quite young. You seem to have your head on straight, but unfortunately that does nothing to make up for lack of life experience or maturity.”

It’s a good thing his psychiatrist has already started him on lithium for his I.E.D with the lowered dose of Risperdal; Liam can feel a lick of it in the back of his head, a little fire that, without the medication, would quickly explode.

He hasn’t said anything; Mr. Talbot continues. “I’m particularly worried that Brett’s simply repeating the same pattern he went through with Andrew,” he says - man, Liam’s never heard someone’s voice so cold while stating the fact. “Finding someone broken to fix, only for them to use him and leave him behind.”

“Dad,” Brett says quietly. Liam looks over at him; the fight seems to have gone out of him, and he looks… well, Liam’s pretty sure that’s the expression of someone’s going to cry very, very shortly. “Come on, I… I like Liam, I-”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” Mr. Talbot snaps. “But you liked Andrew as well, and you weren’t the only one who was affected by his behaviour.”

Brett rubs his face. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, and his voice breaks. “You and Mom have both told me a thousand times that I need to move on, and I finally have, and it’s not good enough. Are you ever going to let anyone be enough for me? Or are you just going to keep driving them away from me?”

“I’m not leaving you,” Liam says.

Everyone at the table looks at him, surprised, like they’ve forgotten he’s there. Liam’s used to that, and usually, he’s even okay with it - likes it, even. But not today.

“Huh?” Brett asks.

“I’m not leaving you,” Liam repeats. “I’d never do that.”

Mrs. Talbot smiles widely when he says it.

“And for the record,” Liam says, turning to Mr. Talbot, “I’m not broken. I have a diagnosed mental illness. I see a psychiatrist for it. I’m on medication. I took it right before I came here tonight. And even if I didn’t, that wouldn’t make it okay for you to talk about me like I’m a second-class citizen who can’t hear what you’re saying.”

Mr. Talbot looks at Brett, who looks downright terrified. “Did you know about this?”

“He knew,” Liam says. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I am. I told Brett months ago and he stayed anyway.”

Brett swallows; his foot touches Liam’s under the table. “Liam wouldn’t ever hurt anyone, Dad,” he says softly.

“You thought the same thing about Andrew,” Mr. Talbot says. “You assured us he was good for you even when it was clear he wasn’t good for anyone, including himself, and we trusted you.”

“Why are you blaming Brett for Andrew’s crappy behaviour?” Liam demands. “I’m sure he didn’t decide one day that he would like to get his heart broken and be dumped over something outside his control. It’s not Brett’s fault Andrew was a bad person. It’s Andrew’s for taking advantage of him being nice, and it’s his fault for taking advantage of you guys for being accepting. Brett didn’t do anything wrong.”

Brett’s hand squeezes his softly, under the table. His eyes are glossy with unshed tears; Liam wonders if anyone’s ever told him that before.

“You didn’t have this much of a voice the first time you were here,” Mr. Talbot says. There’s a shift in his tone; Liam can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

Liam shakes his head. “You were honest with me, Mr. Talbot, so I’ll be honest with you. There’s nothing you can do to me that my own father hasn’t already done to me, and if I do leave, it won’t be because of you, and it won’t be because of Mrs. Talbot’s cancer.” He leans back, crossing his arms to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. “So do your worst. But I like Brett, and unless he wants me gone, there’s no way you’re getting rid of me.”

There’s a long, incredibly tense pause. Liam stares at Mr. Talbot over the table, and Mr. Talbot stares back at him. Brett’s got his head in his hands; Mrs. Talbot looks worried.

“Would you like dessert?” Mr. Talbot asks finally.

“Yes please,” Liam says, not missing a beat.

Mr. Talbot stands up. “Chocolate cake or pie?”

“Pie, please.”

He leaves the room; Mrs. Talbot follows him immediately, and once they’re both gone, Liam lets his shoulders slump. He’s shaking, and he feels completely and utterly terrified.

Brett’s hand lands on the back of his neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Liam lifts his head to look at him. He looks like Liam’s just rescued him from a burning building. “Liam, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Liam whispers. “I might still have a panic attack.”

Brett gives him a wobbly smile. “You too, huh?”

Liam chokes on a laugh, presses his forehead against Brett’s, then gives him a soft, gentle kiss. Brett shuffles his chair closer, holds him for a moment; Liam’s grateful to be able to wrap his hands into Brett’s sweater, because they’re still shaking, and all the blood has stopped flowing to them.

“I don’t care what your reasoning is!” Mrs. Talbot’s voice shouts; Liam jumps about a foot in the air. “How dare you treat him like that!”

“I didn’t mean to make them fight,” he whispers to Brett.

“You didn’t.” Brett’s shaking his head. “The moment Dad got stuck into you was the moment he sealed his own fate, so to speak. This was always going to happen.”

“Fine?!” Brett’s mom yells. “It’s not fine! You’ve probably traumatised that poor boy to within an inch of his life!”

“Is she talking about you or me?” Liam asks.

“Not sure. Both, maybe.”

“Still here?! _Still here?!_ Not for lack of trying on your part, Graham! Your conduct is disgusting and we’re damn lucky that boy has a heart of gold, or we’d be dealing with our son being broken-hearted again, except this time, it would be _your fault!”_

Brett smiles at Liam fondly. “She’s definitely talking about you,” he says, and Liam blushes. “Hey, you okay? You look stressed.”

“I am stressed,” Liam admits.

“I’m sorry,” Brett says regretfully. “You wanna go outside for a bit?”

“Won’t they notice we’re gone?”

“Nah. Mom’ll probably ream him out for another fifteen minutes before either of them remember we’ve even here.” Brett stands up. “C'mon.”

Liam’s grateful to be outside, in the night air; it’s cool out, but nothing unbearable, and they sit down on the back step. After a moment, Brett shuffles closer to him and puts his arm around Liam’s shoulders gently.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Of course.”

There’s a long pause. Liam can still hear muted yelling from inside the house; it’s grinding his nerves down, but it’s nothing he can’t manage.

“Thank you,” Brett says.

“What for?”

“What for? Liam, nobody’s ever fought for me like that before.”

Liam looks at Brett, takes in how gentle and soft and genuinely kind his eyes are - how his mouth is slightly open, how he curls his body towards Liam’s in an effort to keep him warm and sheltered from the night air.

“They should have,” he says simply, and Brett opens his mouth a little, closes it, and takes a deep breath in. His eyes look glossy again.

“I’m not sure how you were still single by the time I asked you out,” Brett admits. “You’re an amazing person.”

Liam smiles a little. “Only for you,” he says softly. “I don’t… think I could have done that for anyone else.”

Brett shakes his head, leans in closer, and kisses him softly. Liam’s just moving closer when the back door slides open.

“Ew,” Lori says.

“C'mon, Lor,” Brett says. “It’s not any different from kissing a girl.”

“I know that,” she says blankly. “It’s gross because you might catch something. Lisa has mono right now and she got it from kissing Justin in the year above us.”

Liam smiles. “I don’t have mono.”

“Brett might.”

“I don’t have mono either, but thanks for showing Liam concern,” Brett says dryly. “Where exactly do you think I’ve been?”

She shrugs exaggeratedly. “I don’t know. You party a lot.”

Liam laughs when Brett’s mouth drops open. “I think you just got slut-shamed,” he teases. “He doesn’t party that much anymore, Lori. We’re really boring. We watch lots of movies.”

“I like movies,” Lori says. “But Mom said I have to have the door open when I have Matt around now because he might ask me to Netflix and chill. It’s really annoying. I would say no.”

“You know what Netflix and chill means?” Brett asks, looking startled.

“I read, Brett,” she says tartly. “Why’s Mom yelling at Dad?”

“He was being Dad.”

Lori nods like it makes sense; Brett sighs and stands up. “I’m gonna go see if I can break it up,” he says tiredly. “I still want pie.”

“So do I,” Liam adds helpfully. Brett ruffles his hair, smiling, as he leaves for the house; Lori comes and sits down next to him instead.

Without Brett here to distract him, Liam’s suddenly feeling down. He knows there’s stigma surrounding mental illness, especially mental illness with disruptive symptoms, but…

“Are you sad?” Lori asks.

“A little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. You didn’t do anything.”

“You’re not gonna leave Brett, are you?” Lori asks uneasily.

Liam turns to her, blinking. “No,” he says. “Of course not. Brett didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, looking relieved. “Because he really likes you. And he cried a lot when Andrew dumped him.”

Liam’s heart squeezes painfully at that; _he cried a lot when Andrew dumped him_. He was hurt by it. Badly, if Lori is to be believed, and Liam doesn’t see why she can’t be.

“I’m not gonna dump him,” Liam reassures her. “I really like him.”

She nods. “Are you sad because of Dad?”

Liam says nothing. He can’t really. This is the first time he’s ever directly experienced the stigma of having a mental illness, of having to take medication to function healthily, of just feeling different. Of being made to feel different for something that’s totally outside his control.

“He was mean,” Lori says finally. “He’s mean about lots of stuff. I’m sorry he made you sad.”

He smiles a little. “Thanks, Lori.”

She nods. They sit in silence for a little while; Liam’s feeling a little better with Brett’s sister keeping him company, and he’s looking up at the stars when Lori says, “Are you sick, Liam?”

“How do you mean?”

“Like… the way Dad was talking about. Are you sick?”

"How'd you know what your dad was talking about?"

"I was listening from the stairs. They don't tell me anything ever, so I kinda listen when I'm not supposed to."

"Oh."

There's a brief silence. "So?" she asks timidly. "Are you?" 

He nods. “Yeah. But I take meds for it. You know I’m not gonna hurt you, right?”

“Or Brett?” she asks.

“I’d never hurt Brett. I’d never hurt anyone.”

She smiles as she stands up. “Then that’s all that matters. Wanna go on the trampoline?”

Liam grins. “I haven’t been on a trampoline in years,” he says, getting up and following her to it. “Hopefully I don’t break it.”

“You won’t break it! Will you bounce me really high?”

“Sure.” Liam remembers these games; he used to play them with his cousins. He revels in the way Lori shrieks with laughter as his weight catapults her into the air; the trampoline is closed in with netting, and there’s a basketball hoop set up on it.

“I like you,” she pants as he manages to sink a goal. “Brett gets really tired really fast.”

“Brett needs to do more cardio,” Liam laughs breathlessly. “And hey, you’re shorter than me. Evens the odds in my favour.”

She shoots a goal. “Hey, Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can - um… what do you have?”

She’s referring to him being “sick” as they put it before; Liam feels okay with telling her, really, because she seems open minded.

“I have this thing called I.E.D,” he explains, lying back on the trampoline. “Intermittent explosive disorder.” He smiles when she makes a face. “Yeah. It’s kind of a mouthful. It basically means… I get really, really angry over stuff that doesn’t matter. Except I can’t control it. It just happens, and I feel really terrible about it later.”

It’s something people don’t often know about I.E.D; they know about the anger, the outbursts - the explosions of rage and physical violence that accompanies an episode. But hardly anyone seems to realise how remorseful Liam feels afterwards.

“Is it…” He can see her struggling to understand. “Like a tantrum? Like when Nate doesn’t get what he wants, so he cries and screams?”

Liam shakes his head. “I can’t be talked down from it,” he says gently. “And it can’t be disciplined out of me either, and I don’t choose to do it. It’s just… how my brain’s wired, I guess.”

“Is it scary?”

“It used to be,” he says truthfully. “When I was about your age, that was when I was diagnosed with it, and it was kind of scary. And I got into a lot of trouble a lot, even right up till I turned seventeen, because I’d stop taking my meds. But it’s not anymore. I take my meds now and I haven’t had an episode in months.”

She nods. “So you don’t get mad anymore?”

“Not like that. You know I’m not gonna hurt you, right? Or Brett. I’d never do anything to hurt Brett. I owe him a lot.”

“You said you’re on medicine for it,” she says with a shrug. “So if the medicine works you won’t.”

“You’re a smart kid,” Liam says.

“Dad was mean to you,” Lori says. “I feel bad about that. Sometimes he’s mean to us too. Mom says he’s stressed because of her cancer. But…”

Liam watches her; she looks like she might cry, and he sits up to look at her properly. “But that doesn’t make it hurt any less for you, huh?” he asks kindly.

Her lip wobbles; she shakes her head. For some reason, it reminds him of when Hayden cries, and before he really stops to think, he’s moving a little closer and hugging her tightly.

She hugs him back tightly, sniffling. “You’re really nice,” she whispers, her voice cracking a little. “Andrew was never this nice. I hope you don’t leave because Dad’s a bully.”

“Nah,” Liam says. “I’ve put up with way worse. Your dad doesn’t scare me.” He kind of does, actually, but Liam’s not gonna admit that aloud.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And your brother’s cool. Your dad wants me gone, he’s gonna have to try a lot harder.”

“Don’t tempt him.”

Liam looks up. Brett’s standing on the porch, smiling faintly.

“Hey,” he says. “Lori. Mom and Dad want you to come inside.”

Her jaw sets. “Liam already told me about his intermittent explosive disorder,” she huffs - her tongue trips over the name of his disorder, the way his own did the first time he had to say it aloud. “They can’t change my mind.”

“That’s awesome, Lor,” Brett says sincerely. “But they actually just want you to do the dishes.”

“Oh.” She turns to Liam. “Will you say goodnight before you go?”

“Yeah. I’ll say goodnight. Even if you’re asleep.”

“Okay.” She hops down from the trampoline; Brett ruffles her hair as she heads inside, then comes to sit next to Liam.

“You told her?” he asks softly.

Liam shrugs. “She wanted to know.”

Brett nods. They sit in silence for a while.

“Brett,” Liam says softly.

“Mm?”

“What… does your dad think I’ll do?” he asks quietly.

Brett looks at him sadly. “I don’t know, Liam. I really don’t.”

Liam nods. The idea that anyone could think he’d hurt anyone is more upsetting than anything else; he’s furious that there’s the association of violence with mental illness, and frightened that - at least in his case, when he’s unmedicated - it’s true. He can be violent off his medication - and it’s not run of the mill anger, either.

“I’m never gonna go off my meds,” he says.

“I know.” Brett looks surprised. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Li. I know you’d rather die than have to go off them again.”

Liam nods, relieved that Brett understands.

“When you’re ready,” Brett says softly, “if you’re ready… Mom and Dad have dessert on the table.”

Liam nods. He’s not particularly sure he is ready to go inside and face it, to face them - in the heat of the moment, he’d revealed far more about himself than he really meant to.

But he thinks, as he turns to look at Brett - sees how worried Brett looks, how genuinely anxious and frightened he seems - that Brett needs him to be brave and back his words up with actions. He knows there’s no pressure to perform with Brett. And maybe that’s what makes him want to do it.

“I’m ready,” he says.

Brett’s eyes flash with surprise. “Really?”

“Yep.” Liam gives himself a single shaky sigh, then hops down off the trampoline. “I don’t pass up dessert for anything. You know that.”

Brett laughs - a surprised but genuine sound. “Okay. Cool.”

They go back inside. Brett walks a little ahead of him, putting Liam behind him - Liam’s grateful for that, even more so when Brett reaches back and takes his hand gently as he slides the back door open.

Brett’s parents are at the kitchen counter; they both turn when Brett and Liam enter. Mr. Talbot’s eyes focus on Brett first, but Mrs. Talbot’s focus on Liam - they move over his face and eyes, probably looking for visible signs that he may be upset, might have been crying. His own mom used to do the same thing.

_Are we gonna talk about it?_ Liam wonders uneasily. _Or pretend nothing ever happened?_

There’s a pause. Brett’s glaring at his dad haughtily - daring him, silently, to try Liam again. Liam feels like this time, Brett’s not going to take it lying down.

“We have chocolate cake or raspberry and key lime pie,” Mr. Talbot says. “Liam, which would you like?”

He sounds different. Less stiff. If Liam’s reading the inflection in his voice correctly, it might even be nerves he’s hearing.

“Chocolate cake, please,” he replies quietly. He used up his daily quota of assertiveness at the dinner table earlier; if it comes down to another argument tonight, he’s probably going to have a meltdown.

“Chocolate cake is my favourite too,” Lori says - she’s standing at the sink, her hands soapy and wet. “You should put some cream on it! Then you mix it around and it’s like cake soup.”

Liam smiles. She’s talking quickly; he recognises nerves like that a mile away. Her parents fighting takes a toll on her, evidently, and Liam’s not sure they’ve realised that. “My mom always put custard on mine,” he says.

“Custard? That sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it was. I didn’t like it.”

“Why’d she choose custard instead of cream?”

“Lori,” Mr. Talbot says, and she falls totally silent. Liam kind of wants to deck the guy. Not hard. Just enough to send a message.

“Hey,” Liam says. “Before I go, you should show me your guitar. You said you were having trouble tuning it, right?”

She nods, glancing at her dad quickly - nervously.

“Well, I can show you how to tune it if you want,” Liam says, trying to draw her attention back to him. “It’s really easy once you’ve got the hang of it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mrs. Talbot says cheerfully. “Lori, honey, go get your guitar.”

“The dishes, though-”

“Oh, you can finish them up later, sweetie.”

Lori dries her hands and leaves the room; Liam listens to her footsteps on the stairs, then across the landing. After that, the sound fades until he can’t hear it anymore.

“Do you like children, Liam?” Mrs. Talbot asks, handing him a plate - on it, a huge slice of cake and whipped cream. He’s not even sure he’ll be able to finish it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Well, I guess. Kids are cool. Uh, thanks for the cake.”

“No problem, sweetie,” she says cheerfully. “Go sit down.”

Liam does as he’s told. He still feels tense, and he’s looking forward to Lori coming back; he’s happy to hear her footsteps on the staircase.

Lori’s guitar is dark brown - a simple one, for beginners, and out of tune, but not badly. “She doesn’t keep up with it,” Mr. Talbot says.

Liam plucks the strings; Lori’s looking at the ground. “It’s good if they’re out of tune,” he says. “If they’re out of tune it means it’s being played a lot.”

Brett shoots him a grateful look across the table. Liam smiles a little as he twists the knobs at the top of the guitar, until each note rings out clearly and flawlessly. “There you go,” he says. “Keep practicing. I’ll tune it again when I’m here next.” He tries to get her to smile; she seems kind of beaten down after what her dad said. “Hey. Maybe I’ll bring mine and we can practice together.”

“You still need to practice?” she asks.

“Yup. Even the best need to practice. Not saying I’m the best, but…”

She nods. “I wanna practice with you,” she says eagerly.

He smiles. “Okay. Sounds good.” She seems like a really sweet kid, eager to please, friendly and open - until her dad says something, that is. Liam’s dad never really bothered much with the cutting remarks towards him, but Liam knows how they affected his mom - for years before Liam was even born. Even now, raised voices make her shrink. He’ll never forget the way his I.E.D, unmedicated and running rampant, affected her mental health. It’s not like either of them could help it, either.

Lori sits next to him at the table during dessert; when she’s dismissed to go to bed, she stands up, but hesitates before leaving the room.

“You’ll come say goodnight, right?” she asks Liam.

“Sure. I’ll come say goodnight.”

“Even if it’s late and I’m asleep?”

“Promise,” he says, smiling. “Here.”

She pretty much beams when he sticks out his pinky finger. “You know pinky promises.”

“Of course I do. It’s the other kind of unbreakable vow.”

Brett shakes his head. “You’re such a dork,” he laughs.

Liam shrugs, smiles, and says goodnight to Lori as she leaves. Once she’s gone, an uncomfortable tension settles over the table; everyone’s obviously thinking about what happened before. Liam eats his cake, even though he can barely taste it.

“Graham,” Mrs. Talbot says, “I think you owe Liam an apology. And Brett, while you’re at it.”

_Oh, fuck_ , Liam thinks. _I hate this part._

Graham rubs his face. “Liam,” he says. “I’m sorry for how I behaved earlier. I’m worried that people see Brett, and how kind he is, and take advantage of them.”

Liam leans back. “People like me,” he says quietly.

The words ring around the table; nobody has to tell Liam that’s what Graham means when he says “people”, but he wants it out there, in the open.

“Andrew-” Mr. Talbot begins.

“I hope,” Liam says, “that whatever perceptions you’ve got of me and people "like me”, you let me try to change them.“

"You already are,” Mr. Talbot says, and somehow, that doesn’t make Liam feel any better. If anything, it makes him feel worse. If he slips up - if the fluoxetine and lithium don’t work, or if his Risperdal is tapered too quickly - it’s not just going to reflect on him; it’ll reflect on everyone.

He’s quiet for the rest of the night. Both Brett’s parents seem to have realised that the fight’s gone out of him; Mrs. Talbot is so gentle with him he wants to cry, and Mr. Talbot tries to talk to him about college, but Liam doesn’t know what to say that won’t make the guy dislike him even more than he already does.

Sometime past ten thirty, Brett announces they’re leaving, and Liam feels immensely grateful for it. Lori’s asleep, but he pokes his head into her room and whispers goodnight with Mrs. Talbot’s permission. Brett kisses her head, tucks Nate in - turns to Liam outside his bedroom door.

“Liam,” he whispers. “Are you-”

“Don’t,” Liam says, and his voice breaks a little. “Not here, okay?”

Brett nods, looking worried, and leads the way downstairs. Liam manages to get himself under control before they reach the foot of the staircase.

When they reach the front door, Brett’s parents both waiting there - Mrs. Talbot is holding two plastic bags, both filled with containers.

“Brett, honey, these are yours,” she says, passing one of the bags over. “And Liam - I know you live in the dorms, sweetheart. I made a little extra for you to take home.”

“Thank you,” he says, and his voice comes out remarkably steady. “I’ll try not to let my roommate eat it.”

She smiles kindly, draws him into a hug - it’s soft, and she strokes the back of his head as she does. Liam melts into her and lets her love him, just for a little while - lets the feeling bolster him before he has to shake Mr. Talbot’s hand and look him in the eye.

_Like a man_. He’s startled to hear his father’s voice in his head. _Stand up straight like a man._

By the time Liam settles into the passenger seat, he knows, without a doubt, that he’s going to fucking lose it. He can feel it; his chest is tightening with the threat of tears, and his throat aches like he’s got something stuck in it.

They’re quiet for a moment. Liam leans back in his seat, presses his closed fist against his mouth. Brett toggles with the volume for a moment, and sound begins to seep into the car. Liam doesn’t recognise the band for once. He doesn’t care.

“Liam?” Brett asks softly.

His name, on Brett’s lips, is all it takes for a few tears to roll down his cheeks. His eyes are blurred; he’s glad he’s not wearing his contact lenses.

“I’m sorry.” Brett’s hand lands on his thigh. “I’m so sorry, Liam. I won’t put you through that again.”

Liam shakes his head. He wants to talk - to explain to Brett that he’s just feeling really weirdly emotional and awful and strung out - but the lump in his throat is obstructing his breathing enough as it is.

“God, he’s such a fuckface,” Brett explodes - Liam jumps a little. “I dunno what the fuck is wrong with him - he’s been on my case for fucking years to do better than Andrew and not let him define me and all this other psychobabble wank but the moment I try - he’s going to find something wrong with everyone I bring home, you know that, right? It’s not personal-”

“It feels personal,” Liam whispers.

His voice cuts the emotion in the car like a knife; Brett deflates like a balloon with a pin in it. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve taken you home the second he brought it up. Liam, don’t-”

Liam startles as Brett pulls over, on the side of the road, and turns the ignition off. He unclasps his seatbelt and leans over - turns Liam’s face towards him and starts thumbing the tears away gently.

“Please don’t let him set you back,” Brett pleads. “He’s just a fucking idiot. He was looking for a sore spot. He found one - for both of us. It’s what he does. It’s twisted, and it’s fucked up, and he does it to everyone. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay?”

“Brett, I’m gonna slip.” It comes out plaintive, almost a cry for help. “You don’t get it. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without an episode. There’s no way I’m gonna be lucky enough to live the rest of my life without having one. I’m gonna slip up, and I’m going to prove him right. That he’s right to be worried about me-”

“He is _not_ right to be worried about you,” Brett snaps. “Listen to me, Liam. He’s a fucking bigot. He’s close-minded. And apart from that - people slip, Liam. People slip-”

“When I slip,” Liam says, his voice shaking, “I go fucking crazy. You don’t get it, Brett. It’s not a tantrum. They call them episodes for a reason. You haven’t seen me like that yet - you haven’t seen me lose my shit and wreck everything in sight because someone said something I didn’t like.”

Brett’s hand closes around the back of his neck. “Liam,” he says helplessly. “That doesn’t… that doesn’t change-”

Liam reaches for his phone. “I wanna show you something,” he croaks.

“C'mon, Li, it doesn’t-”

He finds it after a moment - it’s the very first picture in his camera roll. He saved it from the local news website, before he’d come forward and claimed responsibility for it and the police were still trying to work out who had done it.

He hands it over. He watches Brett’s eyes flit over the photo; the broken-in windows, the slashed and punctured tires, the dented, pockmarked body of a car hit dozens of times with a metal crowbar. The words “YOUR FAULT” emblazoned in angry red spray paint across the side.

“Brett, I did that,” he says. “I was on the lacrosse team. I hit another player with my stick and got red carded by my coach. That’s his car.”

Brett stares at the photo, unmoving.

“I was fourteen,” Liam says, trying to make his point.

Brett looks at him, finally. “Why have you still got this?” he asks calmly.

“Huh?”

“This photo. You saved it from a website, right? It’s got a watermark in the corner. Means you deliberately found it and saved it - and this is a pretty new phone, too, which means that this was either recent, or you went to the effort of transferring it to this one from your old one. Which is it?”

Liam licks his lips. “Found it,” he whispers, feeling like he’s on the edge of tears again. “I upgraded my phone just before I came here.”

Brett nods. “Why?”

Liam fidgets; he’s not sure where Brett is going with this, and he’s nervous. “Because,” he mumbles, his voice breaking. “Because I - I got expelled for it.”

Brett gives him no reaction to that, like he was expecting it. “But why?” he asks. “Why now? Why four - almost five - years later do you still have this?”

“To remind myself how bad it is,” Liam admits. “That I never, ever want to be like that again. That’s what an episode looks like for me.”

Brett nods. He passes Liam’s phone back. “Delete it,” he says.

“Huh?”

“Delete it,” Brett says again, calmly.

“Why? I don’t-”

“You deserve better than torturing yourself for something that happened years ago,” Brett says. “This isn’t going to help you, Liam. How do you feel when you look at this?”

“Terrible,” Liam says, and his voice breaks in earnest this time.

Brett leans closer, puts his forehead against Liam’s. “Delete it,” he whispers softly. “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself. That’s what it is, right? When you look at this? You’re punishing yourself.”

“It’s proof-”

“It’s proof of absolutely _nothing_. Especially not what my dad was saying tonight. I don’t want you to use it to back up what he said about you. He was wrong.” Brett licks his lips. “ _Delete it_ ,” he whispers again.

Liam hits the little trashcan icon in the corner of the screen. His eyes are blurry, and his hands are shaking.

“Now go into your recently deleted photos,” Brett says. “And delete it from there too.”

Liam does as he’s told. He feels a little better. Shell-shocked, but better.

Brett closes his eyes, takes Liam’s phone out of his hands, and wraps Liam in a tight, warm hug. “I’m proud of you,” he says quietly.

Liam swallows and nods. A few more tears drip down his face, but he can tell that they’re going to stop soon - that he’s not going to be crying ten minutes from now.

He really doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, though - in fact, he can’t think of anything worse. He leans back, wipes his eyes roughly - lets Brett take over when he makes a soft, sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“Can I ask you a favour?” Liam asks, his voice wobbling.

“Yeah, anything.”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Brett’s face softens. “Of course you can,” he murmurs. “We should stop by your dorm first.”

Liam nods. He doesn’t feel like it, but he’s gonna need his meds in the morning and even that frustrates him - that he can’t just spontaneously crash at Brett’s place because he has to take his medication on time or risk completely fucking himself up.

“Liam,” Brett says. “Hey. Come back.”

And he does. He focusses on Brett’s voice, returns the soft, loving kiss Brett offers him, and settles back into the seat with Brett’s hand on his leg.

The drive to Liam’s dorm is almost forty minutes - it would have been an hour, before, but it’s late and there’s no traffic. He’s exhausted by the time they’re trudging up the stairs at twenty past eleven, almost hoping Mason isn’t there. He’s glad Brett followed him up - even more grateful that he didn’t have to ask for it.

Mason’s there, but he’s asleep; Liam packs some things quietly, leaves Mason a note, and then tiptoes out.

Brett gives him a small smile. “You wanna grab something to eat?” he asks softly. “We could get it to take away. I know you’re tired.”

Truth be told, Liam’s not all that hungry. Still, Brett might be. He shrugs. “If you want.”

Brett tilts his head. His smile is a little sad. “I’m not hungry. I just thought eating might help you a little.”

Brett’s right that Liam generally feels a lot more stable once he’s had something to eat - but his stomach feels full and heavy and kind of cramped, not from Mrs. Talbot’s cake, but from the knowledge that Mr. Talbot doesn’t approve of him - for something Liam can’t control or change. He feels terrible.

“No thanks,” he murmurs.

Brett nods. “Okay. Well, let’s head home.”

They’ve just gotten back to Brett’s car when Liam’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He waits until he’s in the car to check - it’s a Facebook notification.

He smiles. “Your little sister just sent me a friend request,” he says. “She was asleep when we left.”

“She wakes up a lot during the night,” Brett murmurs. “Goes and checks Mom’s still alive.” He smiles, almost nervously. “So what are you gonna do?”

Liam blinks. “Accept it, of course,” he says, pressing the confirm button. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Andrew didn’t. Said he didn’t want kids popping up on his Facebook feed and messaging him.” Brett sighs. “Lori really wanted him to like her. She… I don’t have to tell you, but be gentle with her, okay? Because she doesn’t get loads of attention or love from Dad at the moment and hasn’t for a while, so she clings to any other adult male that enters her life. Mostly me, but…”

“She tried to cling to Andrew too, and he was a prick about it,” Liam guesses.

“Yeah.”

Liam shakes his head. “Don’t worry. She’s cool. I won’t be a prick to her.” He smiles ruefully. “Besides, I kind of understand.”

Brett nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”


End file.
